


some say it makes the world go round

by mambo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Fluff, M/M, Professors, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-03-15 16:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13617516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: Steve Rogers is a professor just appointed to a tenure-track position at Triskelion College.Bucky Barnes is the writer-in-residence there.Steve doesn't mean to fall in love.





	1. Couplet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamadelicateflowergoddammit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamadelicateflowergoddammit/gifts).



> A Fandom Drumpfs Hate fic for [iamadelicateflowergoddammit](https://iamadelicateflowergoddammit.tumblr.com/). Thank you for your donation, friend! Done in a similar way to my fics [Kiss the Cook](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4651146/chapters/10609803) and [The Happily-Ever-After Business](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10993428/chapters/24485628), this fic will be done in chapters as a series of scenes and vignettes.
> 
> The title comes from W. H. Auden's [O Tell Me The Truth About Love](https://mypoeticside.com/show-classic-poem-1684).

 

When it comes, will it come without warning  
Just as I'm picking my nose?   
Will it knock on my door in the morning,   
Or tread in the bus on my toes?   
Will it come like a change in the weather?   
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?   
Will it alter my life altogether?   
O tell me the truth about love. 

\- W. H. Auden

— —

Steve is in the final phase of getting his office put together when there’s a knock on the door. “Let’s take a walk,” Sam says from the doorway with a smile on his face.

“But I—“ Steve starts, looking at the pile of books he still needs to alphabetize before they go on his shelf. It’s not a necessary task, but it’s the next one on the list. He wants everything in his office to be put together before the students arrive.

“Man, your office looks better than people’s who’ve been here five years, myself included. Let’s go for a walk. You need to see the sun for at least a few minutes before the students descend and I need a sandwich.”

It’s a valid point. The needing to see the sun thing. While there are a few students already on campus for various reasons – jobs, clubs, leadership roles, snuck into someone else’s pad and never left – the deluge will truly begin on Saturday, when the first years will move in, teary-eyed parents and guardians with them until they drive off and the drinking begins. It’s not unusual to Steve, who worked a two-year stint at a big state school prior to moving to Triskelion College for this tenure-track gig. But he’s been on college campuses since he himself was a first-year student, and he understands the shaking kind of anticipation in the air as the campus readies itself for the students.

“Okay,” he relents and lets Sam lead the way out.

“You’re gonna love it here during fall,” Sam says.

“Can’t be better than Shield’s campus,” Steve says, referring to his and Sam’s alma mater, where they met as students. Both of them know that Steve’s goading him — Shield’s campus was nothing compared to Triskelion’s.

Sam shakes his head. “You have no clue what kind of a treat you’re in for. I know you and you’re gonna crap your pants when the leaves start changing. Moving here stepped up my Insta game by a thousand percent.”

“Now you have two aunts and your ma liking your photos?” Steve asks.

Sam elbow’s Steve side. “Why you gotta be like that? Huh? You’re a pest. I should’ve never told you about this job posting. Just gonna come to campus and be a goddamn pest.”

Steve laughs, swatting at Sam’s elbow as they walk out of the Victorian cottage that houses the Triskelion Art History Department’s personal offices. He’d had his doubts about accepting a potentially life-long position at a small school in the middle of nowhere, but the fact that Sam was already here and making a career for himself sold the place to Steve. They’d been friends in undergrad, pen pals during grad school, and now they’re back together, working together in the Triskelion American Studies department. Steve teaches Art History courses, but specializes in intersections between American artists and the labor movement. Sam is a historian writing a book on Black Olympians during the Cold War. Having a tenure-track position at a school that Sam’s also at feels like more than he could’ve ever hoped for.

It feels really good to be here. It feels really right to be here.

They walk out and onto the quad, a rolling meadow with a library on the far side, a dining hall next to it, and spiraling gothic architecture all around. Steve had been so surprised when he’d first stepped foot on campus, to find this space looking like it was plopped out of Europe just sitting in the middle of Ohio. Now that he’s here, he finds himself always looking around and finding something new and unexpected about the place he now calls home.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Sam says. “When the kids get here, this place becomes a Frisbee death zone. You wanna hit the Pub for lunch?” he asks, referring to one of the few small restaurants that are actually walking distance from campus. They’re pretty remote, so most of the dining is in the nearby town, about a fifteen minute drive outside of campus through pristine farmland.

“Sure thing,” Steve says. “I’ve been jonesing for—“

“Lay your sleeping head, my love, / Human on my faithless arm; / Time and fevers burn away / Individual beauty from / Thoughtful children, and the grave / Proves the child ephemeral: / But in my arms till break of day / Let the living creature lie, / Mortal, guilty, but to me / The entirely beautiful.”

At first, Steve looks behind him to see where the voice is coming from, but there’s no one there. Noticing Steve’s confusion, Sam elbows him, then points up to a nearby tree. A man, around the same age as he and Sam, sits in the branches. He’s got a cigarette in one hand and a battered book of poems by W. H. Auden in the other. When he finishes his performance, he looks down at Sam.

“I’m not impressed,” Sam says.

“Aw, come on, Sammy. It’s kismet. I was readin’ this then you walked by. Thought you might be impressed by somethin’ I’ve done in my long life.”

“Man, I’ll never be impressed with you ripping off one of the greats, no matter how creepily you do it. How long you been waiting in that tree for me to walk by? You starting to photosynthesize?”

“Probably,” the guy says. He takes a moment, puts the cigarette in his mouth, and then pops out of the branches and onto the ground in a fluid movement. He tucks the book of poems in his back pocket. “Photosynthesis is a more perfect way of bein’. I suggest you try it some time.”

“If that’s the title of your next novel, I want royalty fees,” Sam says, eyebrows raised.

“The whole sentence’s too long for a title. But there’s somethin’ catchy about _Photosynthesis_.” He does a little gesture with his cigarette-free hand. “That could work.” He grins, then looks at Steve. “Who’s this?” he asks, tilting his head towards Steve as he looks back at Sam.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says. “I’m the new Art History professor.”

“Ahhh,” the guy says. “So you’re the new hire everyone was all excited about. And by everyone, I mean this guy,” he adds, pointing his thumb at Sam.

“Don’t give this asshole more of an ego than he already has,” Sam says, nudging Steve’s side as Steve looks down in embarrassment.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the guy says. “I’m Bucky Barnes,” he adds, reaching out his cigarette-free hand. Steve shakes it. His skin is surprisingly soft for someone who seems to spend their free time hanging out in trees. “Writer-in-residence and English professor. I teach creative writing and the occassional poetry course.”

“Asshole-in-residence,” Sam corrects.

Bucky shrugs, taking his hand from Steve. “If the title fits…” He takes a puff of his cigarette and blows the smoke out over his shoulder and away from Steve and Sam. Steve is not someone who generally likes being near smoke or smokers, but he is at least grateful for the small gesture of goodwill, and he takes the moment to actually look at Bucky.

He’d heard of Bucky Barnes before applying to Triskelion. He’s a novelist and alumni of the college who basically endowed himself a chair after he got a movie deal for one of his first books. Bucky is kind of a big deal, and somebody that the college spends a lot of time bragging about. Steve had assumed that he would be the sort of quasi-professor who spends a lot of time off-campus and offloading his work to TAs, so he is surprised to be meeting him so quickly, and why he couldn’t immediately put a name to the face.

Looking at Bucky in person, as opposed to the very staged photo of him sitting in front of a fireplace with a group of studious-looking students around him on the Triskelion College website, is a difference experience. He’s got this goofy grin mixed with languid posture. His hair is artfully mussed, and he wears jeans, a t-shirt and a blazer that looks like it’s seen better days with tan patches on the elbow. He also has a pair of thick tortoiseshell glasses frames and, of course, the cigarette.

He’s good-looking, albeit in a professor straight from central casting kind of way. Steve wonders, vaguely, if Bucky’s married to another professor, and whether that’s the reason why he decided to move back to campus.

“You’re the guy who wrote about queer performers in Dada spaces, right?” Bucky asks him.

It takes Steve a second to respond because he is, frankly, unused to people bringing up that area of his graduate research. He’s published a few short essays on it, but it’s not a topic that his colleagues tend to find really stimulating, and his graduate advisor told him to write his dissertation on something else. “Yeah,” he says, after a long beat.

“You wanna guest lecture on your last essay for my Modern Poetry class?”

Steve blinks. “Sure,” he says, honestly surprised.

“Fantastic,” Bucky says. “I’ll email you and we can figure out a date.”

“We’re headed to the Pub,” Sam says. “Want a sandwich?”

“Unfortunately, my dancecard is full,” Bucky says, still looking at Steve. “But I am having a get-together for staff members I like next week at my place.” He looks to Sam. “You’re both invited.”

“How do you know you like me?” Steve asks.

Bucky looks back to him with this… delighted grin. It’s charming. “A gut feeling,” he says. “It’s on Saturday night. I’ll add you to the email chain. Sam should’ve already gotten the email invitation if he hasn’t blocked my address.”

“You kept sending me pictures of dogs stuck in things when I was grading finals. I had no other choice but to block.”

“That’s cold,” Bucky says, but he’s laughing. Steve chuckles along as Bucky looks back at him. “Don’t make other plans,” Bucky says to Steve.

“I’m not sure I don’t already have plans.” Steve isn’t sure why he says it, but if Bucky and Sam play around, there’s no reason Steve can’t play, too.

Bucky frowns. “I’d suggest cancelling them,” he says. “Makin’ new friends in a new location should be your first priority and I am a great friend.”

“I think tenure is Steve’s first priority,” Sam says. “And my first priority is that sandwich, so if you’ll excuse us.”

“I will,” Bucky says. “I’ll see you boys around,” he says.

“Gonna climb back up that tree?” Steve asks.

“Yes, I am.”

“Godspeed,” Steve says.

Bucky salutes and Sam and Steve head out on their way.

“He’s a piece of work,” Sam says when they’re out of earshot. “Decent dude, don’t get me wrong, but he can be a lot to deal with when you’re knee-deep in final papers and he decides to send you endless photos of dogs.”

“He seems fine to me,” Steve says, glancing over his shoulder back at the tree. He sees Bucky lounging in there, still smoking his cigarette. Bucky must see Steve looking because he waves. Steve turns back around, then looks down at his feet while he and Sam walk. “He seems fine,” Steve repeats, quieter, as they make their way to the restaurant.

They get their sandwiches and get to talking about the year ahead. For Steve, it’s like the future he’s always dreamed of is finally starting, but he’s still at the starting line. Now, he’s more than eager to leave the gate.


	2. Sestina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve escapes Bucky's party to play with a dog in the back room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself that these chapters would be short! I lied to myself. Hope you enjoy.

To: [sgrogers@triskelion.edu](mailto:Sgrogers@triskelion.edu)

From: [jbbarnes@triskelion.edu](mailto:jbbarnes@triskelion.edu)

Subject: Promised Invitation

Professor Rogers,

Please consider this my cordial invitation to a small soirée at my house on Saturday night. I’m calling the party for 7 PM with the knowledge that professors run on a different schedule than normal humans and will arrive sometime after 8. I live at 523 Guardian Street, just off campus.

Feel free to forward this to Sammy, if you are so inclined, since I’m pretty sure that he is still blocking my numerous emails.

I hope to see you there, Steve.

Best,

Bucky

— —

Sam drags him to the party.

Steve would much rather spend the first weekend of the school year holed up in his home to decompress, work on some lesson plans, and sleep, but Sam tells him that this will be an important social event. Steve agrees — it’s a good chance to get to know some other professors in an informal setting. It will also be incredibly awkward if he doesn’t show up because it turns out that Bucky lives next door to Steve, and he’s sure that they’ll run into each other some time or another.

Bucky’s house is a small but well-maintained mid-century ranch with lush landscaping out front. It’s got a lot more character than the small house built in the 1980s that Steve rents from a retired professor now living in Florida. Still, they don’t look too out of place next to each other, minus the fact that Steve’s home needs a few obvious repairs and Bucky’s place is immaculate. Their backyards are separated by a relatively short aluminum fence that Steve can see through easily.

In fact, Steve saw Bucky yesterday through his window, hanging out on his porch and smoking as a dog ran around his yard. It felt weird to creep, so Steve shut the blinds after just a moment, but it seemed like such a serene scene, a glimpse into the life of someone who knows who they are and what they want.

Steve still feels kind of bad after seeing it, and doesn’t look forward to seeing Bucky again after. Still, he knows he has to go to this party, so he gets ready and braces himself for what’s to come.

Sam meets him at the door of his house, looking as put together as he always does. “Will Maria be joining us?” Steve asks, referring to Sam’s wife, who is a political science professor at the college. The two of them met in grad school and were lucky enough to find employment at the same place. Not many professors at Triskelion are married — it’s a longstanding college rule that professors aren’t allowed to fraternize with each other romantically.

Sam nods. “She’s finishing up some work and is gonna meet us there.” He looks Steve up and down in the doorway. “You’re looking sharp,” Sam says.

“Not really,” Steve mutters as he shuts the door and locks it with a set of keys. He knows some people in town say they never lock their doors and have never had problems, but Steve grew up in Brooklyn. He’s always locked his door and always will.

“Pulled out the good blazer for this thing,” Sam says, grinning. He reaches out and straightens Steve’s collar. “Look at that. Trying to impress someone?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. He hasn’t let Steve forget the fact that he called T’Challa, the Triskelion College President, handsome as he gave a speech to first-year students last week.

“Yeah, literally everyone at the party,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “Any of them could be on my tenure committee.”

Sam frowns. “Man, you gotta stop thinking about tenure for at least five seconds a day. Just five. I think it’ll help your posture.”

“My posture is fine,” Steve says, pocketing his keys, then sighing. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I’m the one waiting here. Are _you_ ready?”

“Am I ever ready for this sort of thing?” Steve asks.

“I’ve seen you do a keg stand, Steve. Never forget that.”

“It was one time!” Steve says as they make their way off of Steve’s porch and over to Bucky’s house.

“And it was because you were romancing some frat bro, right? Steve, I sometimes forget how terrible your romantic taste actually is.”

“I dated Peggy for four years,” Steve says. “You loved Peggy.”

“And Peggy loved—”

“Don’t—“

“Angie. And you love the idea of getting tenure.”

Well, Sam’s not wrong; though, Steve likes to think that it was the distance that split he and Peggy up more than anything else. Angie was just the deciding factor on Peggy’s end and understandably so. But Steve’s over it. He loves them both and did a reading at their wedding. The only reason that he hasn’t dated anyone since Peggy is… well, it’s been because of his career. Sam was right about that, too.

“Are you planning to just give me shit the whole night?” Steve asks.

“Got you to the door, didn’t I?” Sam says and Steve looks up. It’s true; they are standing in front of Bucky’s door. Steve frowns. “Don’t think about tenure during this party, Steve. Just have fun.”

“I’ll try,” Steve says. “But only to improve my posture.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “And Maria still wants you to come over after the party for drinks and an after party, okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “That’s—“

The door opens, revealing Bucky Barnes. “Saw you standing out there through the window,” he says with a smile. He’s not wearing his glasses tonight, and looks well-dressed in a pair of khakis and a button-down black shirt. “Thought I’d let you know that you are actually allowed inside.”

“You know, I thought we’d spend the evening on your porch and leering through the window,” Sam says and Steve looks down to hide his blush. There’s no way either of them would know how he’d snuck a peek yesterday, but he feels caught. “So you’re really ruining my flow already, Barnes.”

“Maria got here before you,” Bucky says. “I think she was sayin’ somethin’ about how unreliable you are, and how you show up to everythin’ late, and how she’d really like to find a dependable man after she dumps you tonight.”

Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, she did not,” Bucky says, starting to laugh. “But you can clarify that with her when you come inside.”

“You’re on thin ice, Barnes,” Sam says as he walks in, Steve trailing after him, still feeling embarrassed about the window thing.

He’s just stepped inside when Bucky touches his arm. “Hey Steve,” he says.

“Bucky.”

“Glad you could make it,” he says, looking up at Steve with this really sweet smile. He seems like a smiley guy, all things considered. It’s kind of nice; not a lot of professors Steve knows are so friendly.

Steve blushes a little more. “It’s uh, my pleasure. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s _my_ pleasure,” Bucky says, dropping his hand. “Did you have to come a long way?” he asks.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m uh, actually renting the house next door.”

Bucky grins. “No shit?” he asks. Steve nods. “I love that place. Professor Pym used to invite me over for gin and tonics every weekend. Had an ant problem for a while, but he got that all settled before the last tenant moved in.”

“That’s good,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “If you ever need anythin’, let me know. Since we’re neighbors and all. I can—”

“Barnes, stop hogging Steve,” Sam calls from across the room.

Bucky purses his lips for a moment, then laughs again. “Is that what I’m doin’?” he asks Steve. “If so, I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything like that,” Steve says. “But I’ll...” He nods over in Sam’s direction.

“Wouldn’t want to keep Sammy waiting,” Bucky says. “But catch up with me later if you get the chance.”

“Okay,” Steve says with a smile as he walks towards Sam, Maria and a few people Steve doesn’t know yet.

“Here he is,” Sam says. “Steve, I want you to meet Bruce Banner, Brunnhilde Valkyrie, and Thor Odinson, and of course you know the love of my life, Maria.” He puts an arm around her waist and she rolls her eyes with a half-smile as he kisses her cheek.

“We saw each hours ago, but thank you for that introduction,” Maria says to Sam before waving at Steve.

“Call me Valkyrie. If you call me the other word we will not be friends,” Valkyrie says before taking a swig of her beer. She sounds menacing enough that Steve won’t try calling her Brunnhilde. Ever.

“Hi Steve,” Bruce says, reaching out a hand, which Steve shakes. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from Sam.”

“Indeed,” Thor adds, giving Steve a hard pat on the back that makes Steve stumble a little. He’s glad he’s not holding a drink yet.

“Chill out, Thor,” Bruce says.

“Nah, rev up the intensity now. It’ll make everything seem easier when it’s December and we’re all overtired and pissed at each other as we grade a stack of seventy essays we regret assigning,” Valkyrie says, eyebrows raised. She glances at Steve. “I teach history,” she says, as if that explains it.

“Don’t mind her, Steven. She is merely jesting,” Thor says with a smile.

“I am not,” Valkyrie says.

“I appreciate the frank warning,” Steve says, trying to smile.

“There we are,” she says.

“What’s with you and Barnes?” Maria asks, thankfully changing the subject.

Steve frowns. “What do you mean?”

“He practically bounded over to the door when he saw you coming.”

Steve shrugs. “Dunno. I only talked to him the one time.”

“Probably wants a shag,” Valkyrie says.

“Or the strong bonds of friendship,” Bruce offers with a conciliatory smile.

“Or he’s just being nice,” Steve says.

“He’s nice to everyone,” Valkyrie says with a shrug. “I wouldn’t read into it too much.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says. “And I think I’m gonna go get a drink.”

— —

Steve is trying to find a bathroom an hour later when he hears the telltale sound of a dog whining behind a closed door. He looks left and right to make sure that no one’s watching, then he opens the door to what must be Bucky’s office. At the door is a small black Scottish terrier who immediately jumps up onto Steve’s legs. Steve laughs, then navigates inside the room and shuts the door behind him. He takes a few steps away from the door and plops onto the ground. The dog is immediately on his lap and licking his face.

“Oh hey there, hey there,” Steve says, grinning while turning his face to the side in order to try to avoid puppy germs in his mouth. “You’re all alone back here, huh?” he asks, looking out at the room.

It’s a big room, split between an office area surrounded in full book cases and a sitting room with large windows and a door out to the yard. The room has dog toys scattered about it and a well-loved dog bed sitting next to the office desk. The desk has a shut laptop on top of it as well as stacks of papers. Behind it is a cork board with various papers and post-its stuck to it.

“This where your dad works?” Steve asks.

The dog responds by hopping off of Steve’s lap, trotting across the room to pick up a little green tennis ball, then trotting back and dropping the ball just out of Steve’s reach. Steve chuckles. “So you’re that kinda guy?” he asks. The dog wags his tail. Steve crawls over to the ball and tosses it gently across the room.

Steve thinks he’ll spend just five minutes there, but he enjoys playing with the little Scottie, and it’s not like he can move after the Scottie falls asleep on his lap a few minutes later.

He’s been gently stroking the snoring pup when the door opens again. The Scottie is up in an instant, wagging its little tail off and running over to…

Bucky Barnes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, eyes wide. “I heard him crying and I came inside.”

“Aw, you were whinin’?” Bucky asks the pup, picking him up, then closing the door behind him with his foot. He looks at the pup. “Or are you just tryin’ to pick up guys again? You’re a hound dog, Sarge,” he says with a smile. He looks back over to Steve. “Thanks for checkin’ up on him.”

“It was my pleasure,” Steve says.

“Not enjoyin’ the party?” Bucky asks, setting Sarge down, then, to Steve’s surprise, sitting down next to him.

“No, I am. It’s just… I don’t always do well in crowds. Sometimes you just need a break.”

“Neither does Sarge, which is why he’s back here. He’s probably pissed because he doesn’t have free reign of the house like usual.” Bucky smiles at Sarge, who is crawling back up on Steve’s lap. Sarge circles around, then plops down with a little sigh. “Usually I take him to stay with a sitter for the night, but our usual sitter is out of town. We spend a lot of time in here, so I was hopin’ he’d be okay.”

“He seemed fine, just a little lonely. No one to toss the ball around.”

“He bullied you into playin’ ball? He’s such a stinker,” Bucky says, laughing. He exhales deeply, then leans against the wall and shuts his eyes. “I put on a good show, but I don’t always do well in crowds, either.”

“It’s your party you can cry if you want to,” Steve says, stroking Sarge again as he snoozes.

Bucky snorts. “Don’t need to cry, just… a moment away is nice.”

“I can go, I’m sure you—”

“If Sarge is sleepin’ then you best stay still,” Bucky says, then opens his eyes back up and looks at Steve again. “If you want to. I mean, you’re welcome to go but you’re also welcome to stay.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying,” Steve says.

Bucky hums in agreement and nods, then leans back and shuts his eyes again. “You a dog person?” he asks.

“I like dogs but I’ve never had one.”

“Why not?” Bucky asks.

“I had pretty bad asthma as a kid so it didn’t seem like a good idea. Though, that didn’t keep me from chasing every neighborhood dog and cat around until I had a coughing fit or their owners yelled at me.”

Bucky chuckles. “And now?” he asks.

“Just busy,” he says. “Maybe when I get a place of my own.” He scritches Sarge’s ear a little.

“You’re welcome to come borrow mine whenever. He’s a handful, but he’s also the best dog in the world.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says, smiling. “Is that why you came back here? To check in on him?”

“I was gonna let him out and have a smoke,” Bucky says. Steve frowns, looking down at Sarge. “I know it’s a terrible habit. I’m always tryin’ to quit. So I tell myself I’ll never smoke in the house, which I still don’t. I go outside. And I think to myself that I’ll quit every winter ‘cuz I don’t wanna be out there in a snowstorm but here I am. Still doin’ it. I’m great at quittin’ anythin’ and everythin’ but this, apparently.”

“At least you don’t do it in the house,” Steve says, just focusing on Sarge.

“Try not to do it around other people, either.”

“That’s good.” He doesn’t know why he says it, but he says, “My ma died from lung cancer. She never touched a cigarette, but my grandparents smoked like chimneys in their little apartment.”

“Jesus. That’s… I’m sorry. That sucks,” Bucky says, then sighs. “I really do gotta quit.”

“I can come out and squirt you with a water gun when I see you in the backyard.”

Bucky smiles. “Haven’t tried that before. Maybe it’ll be effective,” Bucky says. “Can’t be worse than the nasty gum.” He pauses, smiles. “I’m one of five kids, right? And back when we were little we’d run around with water guns shooting each other, and generally terrorizing the street we lived on. We were probably the wildest kids in all of Brooklyn. I’m sure our neighbors hated us”

“Brooklyn?” Steve asks, perking up. “What part?”

“Park Slope.”

“I grew up in Flatbush.”

Bucky looks over at Steve. “No shit?” he asks.

“Yeah, I lived there until college, then went back to the city for grad school.”

Bucky’s grinning again. “Jesus, I miss it,” he says. “This place is great and all, but there’s nothin’ like home.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“You like it here so far?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods. “Sure,” he says. “I haven’t been here for long, but it seems pretty nice. Maybe a bit more rural than I would’ve liked, but it is what it is.”

“There’s an adjustment period but you’ll get used to it,” Bucky says. “The stars are so nice here. Get on Jane Foster’s good side and she’ll take you to the observatorysome night and explain all of the constellations to you. She’s got this great way of mixing science and mythology; it’s amazin’ to hear her talk. I miss a lot about New York and I visit pretty often but when I’m there I always find myself missin’ the night sky here.”

“Then I’ll look up,” Steve promises.

Bucky smiles. “Good,” he says. “I—“

The door opens and Sam is there. “Steve _there_ you are. You said you were going to the bathroom but you’ve been missing for forty minutes! I was about ready to form a search party.” Meanwhile, Sarge sleepily hops off of Steve’s lap and runs over to Sam and jumps up on his legs. Sam leans down and pets the dog while managing to glare at Steve at the same time. He’s a talented man.

“He could’ve been takin’ a really bad shit,” Bucky says.

“I do eat a lot of wheat germ,” Steve says.

Bucky snorts as Sam looks on in abject horror. “You are disgusting, both of you. I cannot believe that I have to work at this institution of higher learning with you four year olds. Steven, please remove yourself from this room and join Maria and I for a nightcap. We are old and sleepy and want to leave, and if you don’t come with, she’ll be pissed because she bought a bottle of that nasty bourbon you both love that she’s been waiting to drink until you’re around.”

Steve laughs. “Alright,” he says, then starts to get up. Sarge, sensing that his pillow is in danger of leaving, runs back over to him and starts climbing up on his lap again. “Pardon me, Sarge,” Steve says, trying to gently push Sarge off of his lap, but the pup is stubborn and keeps climbing on.

“Okay okay,” Bucky says, reaching over and grabbing Sarge from Steve’s lap. Sarge whines a little, but seems content enough to snuggle up to Bucky a moment later. “Thanks for takin’ care of my dog,” Bucky says.

“It realy was my pleasure,” Steve says, getting up and dusting off his pants and blazer, though he’s pretty sure that he’s covered in Sarge’s fur. “See you soon,” he says as he starts towards Sam and the door.

“Hope so,” Bucky says from behind him as he and Sam leave the room.

— —

The next morning Steve wakes up slightly hungover and bleary eyed. As he stumbles his way down to the kitchen for coffee, he looks out the window and sees Bucky standing outside while Sarge runs around the yard, a cigarette between Bucky’s lips.

Steve opens the window and sticks his head out. “Hey Bucky,” he calls.

“Mornin’ neighbor!” Bucky says with a wave.

“Need me to get a water gun?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head, then takes what Steve thought was a cigarette out of his mouth, and holds up a yellow lolipop. “Thought I’d give myself somethin’ similar to do with my mouth. It’s gonna stick this time. May rot my teeth, but uh, not gonna smoke anymore.”

Steve smiles. “Good for you,” he says.

“Thanks,” Bucky says. “It’s ‘cuz of our conversation last night.” Before Steve can ruminate on what that means, both of them turn their attention to Sarge, who has gotten something he obviously shouldn’t have in his mouth and has started running around the yard like a wild dog. “Talk to you later!” Bucky calls as he starts chasing his dog around, Sarge obviously delighted as Bucky trails him.

Steve keeps smiling as he closes the window, though he’s not sure why. He just has the feeling that it’s going to be a good day.


	3. Haiku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a message for Steve.

To: [sgrogers@triskelion.edu](mailto:sgrogers@triskelion.edu)

From: [jbbarnes@triskelion.edu](mailto:jbbarnes@triskelion.edu)

Subject: guest lecture?

 

hi steve! I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted you to come to my class for a guest lecture. it’s a wednesday night seminar. can you come? I can move stuff around on the syllabus so let me know what date works for you. - bucky

— —

America comes up to the front of the room where Steve is wiping a few dates off of the chalkboard. He has a projector and a PowerPoint for each of his classes, but he likes to write out any upcoming due dates by hand so that no one can miss them.

“Professor Rogers?” she asks, a hand on her hip and looking kind of put upon.

“Hi America, what’s up?” Steve asks. “Your reading response was great, if that’s what you’re here about. I’ll have the grades up in the Moodle by tonight.”

“Oh, thanks,” America says, then adds, “but I’m here for extra credit.”

“Extra credit?” Steve asks, putting the chalk eraser down. “You don’t need it, but I’m happy to talk about some options if you’re interested.”

“I don’t need it in _this_ class, but Professor Barnes said he’d give ten points to whoever came up to you and told you to, and I’m repeating exactly what he said here, ‘to answer my email within a damn timely manner’. By ‘my’ I mean ‘his’.”

Steve frowns. “He sent it… two days ago?”

“Dunno, but keep ignoring him. Maybe I can rack up an A without doing any work.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, thanks for letting me know,” he says.

“If you really wanna say thanks, five points sounds about right.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says diplomatically before America waves goodbye and walks away.

Steve finishes tidying up the classroom, then heads over to his office in the building next door for office hours. He knows he has at least one student looking to get some advice on an essay, and another who may come in to go over some test answers they had trouble with, but other than that, his schedule is pretty clear.

He’s just opened his email when there’s a knock on his open door. “Come in,” he calls as he looks up from his computer.

There’s a student he doesn’t even recognize there.

“Hi there,” he says. “Can I help you with something?” He smiles, hoping that he looks inviting.

“Yeah, uh, Professor Barnes said I should stop by because I have class nearby. And, uh, he told me to tell you to answer his email.”

“Did he?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised. “And how much extra credit are you getting?” he asks.

“Five points,” he says.

“America is getting ten,” Steve says.

“That’s bull,” the guy says, rolling his eyes and walking away.

Steve chuckles and goes back to his computer.

For four minutes until there’s a knock on his office _window_.

It’s Thor, grinning and waving to Steve. Laughing, Steve opens the window and says hello.

“Hello Steve! I come with a message from our friend Bucky.”

Steve snorts. “How much extra credit are _you_ getting?” he asks.

“None,” Thor says with a grin. “But Bucky promises me his grandmother’s recipe for corn pudding in exchange.”

“I hope you share that with me,” Steve says.

Thor laughs. “I will. So you’ll answer that email?”

“Sure,” Steve says with a shrug. “When I get a moment to spare.”

— —

“Can you do me a favor?” Steve asks MJ, one of his students who stopped by to say hi. He’s sitting at a table in a restaurant near campus with Sam, Maria, and a few other professors. It's a popular spot among both students, faculty, and staff, so it's not uncommon to see a dozen of your colleagues and students whenever you walk through the door.

“Yeah sure,” she says with a shrug. “What do you want?”

“You know Professor Barnes?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, he’s over at the bar.”

“Can you tell him that Professor Rogers says ‘the first week of November’? I’ll give you ten points of extra credit.”

MJ levels him a look. “Not that I need it,” she says.

Steve grins. “No, not that you need it.”

She nods and heads over.

Steve doesn’t look as she goes, but a few minutes later he feels his phone buzz with another email.

 

To: [sgrogers@triskelion.edu](mailto:sgrogers@triskelion.edu)

From: [jbbarnes@triskelion.edu](mailto:jbbarnes@triskelion.edu)

Subject: RE: guest lecture?

 

first week of november it is. see you then. if you wanna see me now, I’ll buy you a drink when you’re done with dinner. ;)

 

Steve smiles and rolls his eyes before adding the date to his calendar, and slipping his phone back into his pocket. He doubts Bucky was serious about the offer, but it’s nice to hear anyway.


	4. Epic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve witnesses one of Triskelion's traditions.
> 
> Sam is challenged to a sword fight.
> 
> Everyone wears embarrassing clothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why haven't I updated? It was the craziest of crazies. Clubs, girls, dancing, naked, Mom!? argument, police, fleeing the scene, hiding in a dumpster, crashing on your couch for a week because technically I’m ho-omeless
> 
> (Or I'm just busy and this chapter was hard to write. I'm not super happy with it, but I'm eager to move on, so here it is.)

Steve looks down at the costume, then up at Sam.

“You’re joking, right?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head. “We’re all wearing them. Well, everyone who shows up. If you don’t wanna be a part of this, you can always go to Professor Schmidt’s house and do whatever he and all of the unpopular members of the faculty are doing tonight.”

Steve grimaces. “I don’t like Professor Schmidt,” he says. “He creeps me out.” It’s something about his skin, Steve thinks. Whenver Schmdit talks it looks like his skin could peel right off at any moment.

“No one does. Now put on your weird cape and come outside with me. We’re running late.”

Frowning, Steve picks up the black cape and wraps it around his shoulders. It’s identical to the one Sam is wearing, but somehow Sam looks debonair and a little mysterious. Steve probably looks like he’s doing a bad cosplay of Frank Langella as Dracula, minus the seventies hair and the sex appeal.

“I look stupid,” Steve says.

“Everyone does,” Sam says, then grabs Steve’s arm. “But you can complain about looking stupid on the way there.”

Steve sighs, but acquieses. He does pulls his arm away with a muttered, “cut it out” because he still has his pride.

Sam rolls his eyes and heads out the door. It takes Steve a moment to check his hair, find his belt, and to grab his wallet and his keys, so by the time he follows Sam outside, Sam is already in conversation with Bucky Barnes. “Took you long enough,” Sam says. “I’ve had to talk to this asshole for three minutes. _Three minutes_ , Steve.”

“Best three minutes of his life,” Bucky says, laughing.

“Three minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Sam mutters.

“Are you going to the Candlelight Serenade?” Steve asks, though he can obviously tell that the answer to his question is yes by the cape Bucky is wearing. Like Sam, Bucky somehow makes the silly costume work. He looks like a capital-R Romantic author working on a story where the main character dies from tuberculosis, which is actually a metaphor about how he’s pining for someone he knows who won’t look his way. Steve can’t stop himself from chuckling at his own absurd imagination.

“Are you laughin’ at me?” Bucky asks. “Because I hate to tell you, buddy, but you look just as ridiculous as I do.”

“Actually,” Steve says as he turns around to lock the door, “I was thinking you look kind of handsome; albiet, in a Byronic way.”

There’s silence from behind him, quiet enough that Steve has a half-formed apology already on his lips as he turns back around, but he doesn’t say anything because Bucky is... Blushing? Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he’s looking down and it seems like his cheeks are pink. Steve looks at Sam, whose eyebrows are raised. Sam looks pointedly at Bucky, then back to Steve. He mouths, “You broke him,” then gives Steve a thumbs up.

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky says, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He looks back up with a small smile. “You look very elegant.”

Steve snorts. “No need to make stuff up just to return the compliment.”

“No, you’re uh…” He clears his throat. “We’re runnin’ late! We should get goin’.”

“Such a snappy comeback,” Sam says. “C’mon, you can tag along with Rogers and me.”

Bucky grins at Sam. “Are you askin’ me on a—”

“Another word and I’ll whisk Steve away and make sure you can’t talk to him all night,” Sam says.

“You think that’s a threat?” Bucky asks, crossing his arms. “Fine, whisk him away. See if I care.” Steve feels his face fall. He’s not sure why, but it does. It never feels good to feel like you’re unimportant, but Steve can usually ignore it. Steve knows it’s a joke, but for whatever reason it stings a little. And while he recovers quickly, he thinks Bucky sees, because a moment later, Bucky reaches out and gently touches Steve’s arm. “Or maybe I’ll just come with you all.” He looks up at him with an apologetic smile.

Steve smiles, too. There’s something infectous about Bucky’s smile. Honestly, there’s just something sort of infectious about _Bucky_ and the way he seems to feel things. “You’re welcome to.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Then let’s get a move on.”

It takes a few minutes to walk to campus, and they do so quietly. The night is beautiful, with stars overhead and a cool breeze blowing. For a moment, Steve is almost grateful for the cloak; it keeps him warm in the autumn night.

“Chilly?” Bucky asks.

“Not too bad,” Steve says.

“They’ll have coffee and hot chocolate after the…” He lowers his voice, “ _Initiation_.”

“I don’t get all of this weird ceremonial stuff, to be honest. I didn’t pledge a fraternity for a reason,” Steve says.

“I was in a frat,” Bucky says.

“Really?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “Thought it’d be a good way to meet guys.”

“Are you serious?” Sam asks.

Bucky laughs. “I was eighteen!”

“And in those eighteen years did you develop even an ounce of common sense?” Sam asks.

“Some would say that I still don’t have any,” Bucky says. “I’m assumin’ Sam is one of those people.”

“You bet your ass I am,” Sam says.

“I think that havin’ too much common sense makes life too borin’. You don’t get far holdin’ yourself back too much.”

“That was beautiful. I’m shedding a tear,” Sam says. “You can’t see it because it’s dark, but know that I am.”

Bucky chuckles, then looks at Steve. “I make myself seem kind of silly, don’t I?” he asks. His smile seems a little forced.

Steve shakes his head. “As silly as we all look in these, I think you make sense. It’s nice talking to someone with your perspective.”

Sam snorts. “Your affinity for frat bros is showing, Steve.”

“Huh?” Bucky asks, perking up a little as he looks back over at Sam.

“It was one guy!” Steve squawks as Sam laughs.

“Hey Barnes, ask Steve to do a kegstand,” Sam says.

“Would you?” Bucky asks, grinning.

“Hey look! We’re almost there!” Steve says, gesturing toward the campus clock tower, where groups of cloaked staff members and students are gathering.

“Smooth,” Sam mutters as they approach.

Moments later, Bucky is beckoned over to a group of professors standing around. Bucky smiles, apologizes, and leaves him and Sam alone.

Steve lets out a breath as he watches Bucky walk away.

“Hey,” Sam says, nudging Steve’s side. “You ready for something fun?”

Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky, now laughing with his other friends. “I’m nervous,” Steve says.

“Don’t worry,” Sam says, patting Steve’s back. “We chose someone else as the faculty sacrifice.”

“That’s a relief,” Steve says.

“Yeah, you just weren’t cute enough to cut it,” Sam says.

“Wait, what?” Steve asks, but Sam is already laughing as he starts walking towards where they need to be. He gestures for Steve to follow and Steve, of course, does.

— —

The ceremony isn’t too bad. There’s candles and some singing and a weird skit starring the Student Council President and one of the economics professors. Steve finds himself getting into it, laughing along and singing as best he can (though he doesn’t know the words in the same way some of the other faculty members who have been there longer do).

“This is the best part,” Sam mutters to him as a student approaches the group of faculty. “They vote on someone to be in a sword fight. It’s kind of a big deal to get picked.”

“Getting challenged to a duel is a good thing?” Steve asks.

Sam nods. “It’s an honor,” he says.

That’s when Steve notices the student approaching the section of faculty Steve and Sam are standing in. Slowly, the student raises a sword and points it at…

“Nice,” Sam says, grinning.

“Congratulations, buddy,” Steve says, patting Sam on the back.

The faculty around them start cheering as Sam pushes through the people standing in front of him and goes to the student. “Oh, it’s on,” he says as another student approaches him and gives him a sword. Everyone starts singing another song as Sam and the student get to their places.

Steve is watching intently — because even if the swords are dull, he can’t help but be nervous about his best friend being in a sword fight when he knows that Sam quit his high school fencing team after one practice — which is why he’s surprised when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Drink?” Bucky asks, brandishing a small, silver flask.

“Sure,” Steve says, taking it from Bucky and taking a quick sip before handing it back. Whatever’s in there — Steve thinks it’s whisky, but he’s not entirely sure — feels warm on the back of his throat.

“It’s somethin’ to do with the school’s founder gettin’ into a duel,” Bucky says. “Completely fabricated but it’s a lot of fun. Rumor is that whoever gets picked gets a raise. Think that’s fabricated, too, but it’s still a big honor.”

“You been picked before?” Steve asks, watching as Sam and his opponent bow to one another.

Bucky snorts. “Nope,” he says. “Sam deserves it, though. He’s a great guy.”

They go quiet as the sword fight starts. The student — who Steve doesn’t recognize — obviously has some experience and is probably going easy on Sam. That being said, Sam holds his own for about a minute and a half before he trips over a rock and stumbles. The student holds his sword up like he’s about to strike Sam, but at the last moment, President T’Challa comes forward.

“You both have fought valiantly,” he says, “but now is not the time to fight.” He smiles and holds a hand out to help Sam up. “Rather, tonight, I think we should celebrate life, friendship, and Triskelion College.” He looks to the crowd. “Who will join me?”

The crowd screams, “I will!”

“Will you?” Bucky asks, nudging Steve in the side.

Steve chuckles. “Sure,” he says.

“Then come on,” Bucky says, rushing into the crowd of people heading towards the dining hall, where there will be music, dancing and food.

Grinning, Steve joins the crowd.


	5. Narrative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve stumbles in on a meeting between Bucky and his literary agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Now that I have my degree in hand, hopefully I can update this with more regularity! I'm also reposting this chapter because I don't think a notification went out when I tried posting it the first time... let's see if it works now.

There are two kinds of people in the world: those that try to run when someone decides to hold the door open for them but they’re a little too far behind to just walk through it casually, or people who are wrong. Steve is usually in that first category, but when he’s trying to carry two cups of coffee on top of his ridiculously large binder, it’s a little difficult, even if it takes him a full thirty seconds to make it through the door.

“Thanks,” he tells the kind undergraduate holding the door open a little breathlessly, feeling awkward that he’s coming into the English Department’s building in the first place. Steve feels even more awkward now that the stylish undergraduate looks half-irritated and half-amused as they let the door swing shut behind Steve. Maybe it’s the undercut that makes Steve so nervous; childhood inadequacy still makes him feel a little nervous when he’s near someone who is obviously cool.

Then again, he’s a professor. That’s cool, right?

Probably not.

Steve sighs.

Straightening himself out, Steve reminds himself that it’s worth it to be here even if he feels awkward. He’s come to get Bucky’s opinions on the readings he’ll assign for a seminar he’s teaching on American expatriates in Europe between the wars next semester. It’s a new course for the school and one he’s excited to teach. That’s why he’s carrying the gargantuan binder with him. Normally, it lives in Steve’s office with the binders he creates for each class he teaches, but he wants to get Bucky’s opinion on some fiction and poetry to read in conjunction with the syllabus he’s already created and the readings he knows he’ll assign. Steve makes it a point to make sure his book list never exceeds $50, which means that he ends up having his students read a lot of articles. But his eyes aren’t as good as they used to be — which is a troubling thought in of itself — so rather than burning his retinas with the computer screen, he prints all of the articles and puts them in the binder. While he feels strongly that students shouldn’t pay $600 for books they’ll touch once and never use again, the stack of binders he keeps in his office is getting to be a problem.

It’s a short walk over to Bucky’s office and when Steve sees that the door is open, he sticks his head inside. “Bucky?” he asks.

Bucky is not there. There is someone there, though, a red-headed woman sitting in the corner of the room in a comfortable-looking chair. “Hello,” she says in an amused sort of voice. She’s wearing a leather jacket and boots despite the unseasonably warm day, and is sitting cross-legged in the chair, giving off a comfortable vibe that speaks to her having been in the space before. She seems more at ease than Steve does in Bucky’s personal space. Which isn’t surprising, given that Steve hasn’t actually spent much time with Bucky, but it’s still a small campus and Steve is pretty sure that he hasn’t seen this woman before.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Steve says. “Is Bucky here?” he adds because they do have an appointment.

“He will be,” she says. “Is that coffee?” she asks, eyes flicking to the two take out cups Steve has on top of his binder.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, looking down at the cups.

“Great,” she says, unfolding her legs and standing up from the chair. She crosses the room and asks, “Which is his?”

“The one on my right,” Steve says, a little confused.

She grabs the cup with a casual kind of ease. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’re used to sharing.” She takes a sip. “I’m Natasha, by the way.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He double and triple checked Bucky’s confirmation email about their appointment, but maybe Steve got the time wrong or the even day. Whatever he was expecting to see in Bucky’s office, it wasn’t this. “I think I’m actually going to go,” Steve says, deciding that it’s the right course of action. He can always reschedule with Bucky for another time. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“It was no bother,” Natasha says, giving Steve a once-over. Steve grimaces; he’s never been a fan of being checked out, even if it’s not overtly sexual in nature. He just doesn’t like being looked at like he’s an object. “But Bucky should be back any second now, if you want to wait. I’m the uninvited guest here.”

“It’s—”

“Steve!” he hears from he doorway. Steve turns and there’s Bucky. “We had an appointment,” he says like he’s in the process of remembering that fact. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says with a smile, perking up at the sight of his friend.

“He brought you coffee and everything,” the woman says, shaking her head. She actually clucks at him. “You’re so rude to be late.”

“Can it, Nat,” Bucky says.

“It’s really okay,” Steve says. “I can come back another time.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Bucky says, frowning, looking angry at himself.

Natasha takes another sip of the coffee. Steve didn’t know how Bucky takes his coffee, so he left it black. He wonders if she’s noticed. “We have three hours before I need to be back on my way to New York,” she says.

“If you had given me any advance notice that you’d be here this wouldn’t be an issue,” Bucky says, frowning.

“You kept ignoring my calls,” Natasha says. “And the studio needs answers. Actually, they _needed_ answers two weeks ago. Now they’re insisting on answers and I have to give them something if you want this deal to happen.”

“Leavin’ campus for an entire year isn’t an option. Period.”

Steve starts feeling very uncomfortable. Well, he doesn’t _start_ feeling very uncomfortable; he has been for a while. This just doesn’t seem like a conversation that he should be a part of and now he feels like he really should get going.

“All professors take a sabbatical every now and then,” Natasha says. “Steve, you must have taken a sabbatical.”

“Not yet,” Steve admits, though he’ll have one coming in the next few years if he can stick around long enough. He hasn’t stayed anywhere for long enough to have had one thus far.

“See,” Bucky says somewhat petulantly.

Natasha looks at Steve like he’s betrayed her, which is a little unfair given that he doesn’t know her and that he was telling her the truth.

“You know, I think I should come back some other time,” Steve says, backing out of the office, coffee in one hand, binder in the other.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Natasha says, holding the cup up with a small smile.

Bucky looks at the cup, then to Steve, then back to Natasha. “Was that for me?” he asks.

“Bye now,” Steve says, before making a hasty exit.

— —

Steve hums along to his record player as he marks something down on one of his student’s papers in purple ink. He pauses, rereading a sentence that he likes, nods, then takes a sip of red wine. After a long week, he decided to spend a quiet night in, grading papers and listening to one of his favorite albums on the dorky record player he bought himself after he got his first paycheck from Triskelion. He’d been feeling homesick, and wanted to recreate the feeling he had as a kid when his mom would pull a record from her collection and the two of them would start dancing around the living room. It’s not the same — he has no one to dance with, for starters — but there’s something soothing about having Whipped Cream & Other Delights playing softly in the background as he grades papers.

He’s halfway through writing a comment when he hears a sharp knock on the front door.

Confused, he stands up and heads over to the door, glass of wine in hand. He’s wearing his comfortable at-home clothes: a pair of loose drawstring pants and a white t-shirt, and he took his contacts out a few hours ago, so he’s wearing the thick black plastic frame glasses that he knows look pretty bad on him but make reading papers easier. He’s a bit of a mess, to be honest, so he’s not exactly happy to have company.

But he opens the door because he’s not rude.

When he sees Bucky, he winces just a little and swears internally If he had known it was Bucky, he’d’ve…

Well, he would have tried to look a little better, is all.

“Hi,” Bucky says, lips curving into a smile. He looks pointedly at the glass of wine in Steve’s hand. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just grading some first-year papers,” he says with a shrug. “Not that I need the wine to get through the papers,” he adds hastily. “My students are doing good work.”

Bucky chuckles. “You don’t need to defend your gradin’ practices to me. I understand.”

“Thought you might,” Steve says with a smile.

“And the music?” Bucky asks.

“An old favorite.”

“Jazzy,” Bucky says. Steve nods. “I like it,” he says. “Makes me want to dance.”

Steve smiles, looks down for a moment. “Yeah, it makes me feel that way, too,” he says. He looks back at Bucky, who is looking at him with one of his indecipherable expressions. He just can’t quite figure out what Bucky’s thinking at any given time; he’s half-worried that Bucky is writing novels about him in his head. But that’s silly — Bucky probably doesn’t think that much of him. Like usual, Steve is giving himself too much credit.

They stand in the quiet, a gentle wind blowing. Steve can hear the song _Ladyfingers_ start to play from back in his office. Feeling Bucky’s gaze on him, Steve takes a quick sip of wine just to give himself something to do other than try to figure out what it is that Bucky is thinking, or to figure out why Steve cares so much about what Bucky is thinking anyway.

“I came to apologize,” Bucky says finally as the serene tune plays.

“For what?” Steve asks.

“This afternoon,” Bucky says, eyebrow raised. “We had an appointment that I unceremoniously cancelled. Made you come all the way across campus for nothin’.”

“I wouldn’t call it unceremoniously,” Steve says, leaning against the doorframe. “And you don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t a big deal.” He pauses. “So your friend came from New York?” he asks, because he’s a bit of a busybody and wants to know what Bucky and Natasha were talking about.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “She’s not my friend,” he says, but then pauses. “Well, that’s not true. Natasha is my _best_ friend. She’s also my agent.”

“Agent?”

“She handles a lot of my book… stuff,” he says. “She’s a lifesaver, actually. Without her I wouldn’t be here. She deals with the paperwork and the bickerin’ and all of the stuff I’m terrible at so I can write and teach.”

“So do you have a book deal or something?” Steve asks.

“I always have a book deal,” Bucky says with a mirthful laugh. “No, no, but it’s uh, a movie deal,” he says, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Wow,” Steve says, actually floored. He knew Bucky’s books were popular, and there was a movie adaptation of one of them a few years back, but he hadn’t seen it. It makes sense that the studios would be interested in making another movie, especially since there’s a market for Bucky’s work.

Bucky nods. “It’s been a while, actually. I haven’t let any of them get optioned after what happened with the first. It was kind of a disaster,” he says with a sigh. He pauses, smirks. “Can you keep a secret?” he asks.

“Pretty well,” Steve says. “Though, don’t ask me to lie about anything. I’m not a great liar.”

Bucky laughs. “I don’t think you’ll need to lie, but I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He takes a breath then exhales. “They’ve offered to let me co-write the script. I’d be workin’ with a screenwriter I know, a really great gal whose written a few of my favorite movies.”

“That’s great,” Steve says.

“But to do it, and then to be a part of production, that’d take a whole year away from campus.”

“That’s why Natasha was talking about sabbaticals,” Steve says, things clicking into place.

“Yeah, that’s why Natasha was talkin’ ‘bout sabbaticals,” Bucky says with a nod. He sighs. “I don’t really wanna take one, though.”

“Why not?” Steve asks.

“There’s just a lot keepin’ me here,” Bucky says. His smile fades. “Or things that I want to keep me here,” he adds in a quiet voice.

The music keeps playing, the trumpet sounding almost like a lullaby. Steve isn’t sure what to say to Bucky or what that even means.

“Anyhow,” Bucky says after a long moment, “I just wanted to apologize for this afternoon. When can we reschedule?”

“I’m kind of busy the next few days,” Steve admits. He has a slew of assignments due and he tries his best to get them back to his students within two classes; it’s the least he can do to reciprocate the hard work they put into their work. But that also means that he won’t have the opportunity to sit down with Bucky until his work is done.

Bucky glances down. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll shoot you an email,” Bucky says before turning around and heading down the steps.

“Hey Buck,” Steve calls. Bucky pauses, turns around. “I hope you can figure out what you want to do.”

Bucky smiles, backlit by the streetlamp behind him. “I hope so, too.”

— —

After Bucky leaves, Steve finds it hard to focus on his work. Instead, he turns out the lights, lays down on his bed, and listens to the album again.

When _Ladyfingers_ starts to play, he finds himself thinking of Bucky walking home in the moonlight and how, maybe, Steve should have invited him in for a glass of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has left a comment throughout this fic! Writing a WIP can be a lot of fun when people are willing to share in it with you, and honestly? The comments keep me going when I'm having a tough time writing. So thank you!!!


	6. Sonnet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Steve invites Bucky (and Sarge) inside.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, looking flustered as he walks through the door to Steve’s house. He’s carrying his laptop in one hand and a battered green duffle bag and Sarge’s leash in the other. Sarge trots close behind him, nose down to the groundsniffing as he enters Steve’s house. “I don’t even know what’s in here,” he says, lifting up the duffle bag. “God, I’m in such a fuckin’ panic. Never had a burst pipe in my life and I’ve lived in some shitty places where the pipes should’ve burst ages ago. This place? Never expected it.”

“That’s lucky,” Steve says with a smile as he squats down. Sarge trots right up to him and jumps up onto his leg, stubby tail wagging hard. Steve grins as Sarge tries to kiss his face. He strokes down Sarge’s back as he says, “Your place will be fine, right? Just a quick repair?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says. “There’ll be some clean-up but the plumbers will have everything fixed by tomorrow. Thanks for lettin’ us stay the night, though.”

“It’s no problem at all. It’ll be nice to have someone in the guest bedroom. I actually haven’t had any visitors up until now.”

“What, no blanket fort?” Bucky asks.

Steve looks up from Sarge. “Oh, I meant Sarge was welcome to the bedroom. You can sleep wherever. I must have a sleeping bag somewhere that you can borrow. Or I can just pull out the couch cushions fo you. They’re a little lumpy but you have a strong back, right?” He grins as Bucky sputters. “It’s a joke.”

“Mine wasn’t,” Bucky says. “I was totally ready to make a blanket fort, tell scary stories, eat s’mores. Gossip all night about who we have a crush on.”

“I don’t have marshmallows,” Steve admits with a frown.

Bucky grins. He sets his laptop down and drops his duffle bag on the floor with a lot less finesse. It takes him a minute of ruffling through the duffle bag, but he emerges a moment later with a jar of marshmallow fluff. “Luckily, I came prepared,” he says.

Steve stares at the jar for a long moment, long enough that Sarge whines a little to get him to keep petting him. “Marshmallow fluff?” he asks, even though it’s obvious.

“Marshmallow fluff,” Bucky says in agreement with a smug grin.

“Why?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Why not?”

“That seems like a cop-out of an answer,” Steve says.

“Honestly? I just like the stuff,” Bucky says, putting it back in his duffle bag. “I’m a comfort eater.”

“Me too,” Steve admits.

Bucky sighs, picking his stuff back up of the floor. “Have I mentioned that I really appreciate all this?” he says. “I know I’m puttin’ you out.”

“You have,” Steve says. “Have I mentioned that it’s no bother at all and that you really don’t have to keep thanking me just for being a decent neighbor?”

“A couple times,” Bucky admits. “But that doesn’t stop me from bein’ grateful.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” Steve says, feeling suddenly a little self-conscious. “Here, let’s go to the guest room,” he says, changing the subject and giving himself something to do other than look at Bucky. For some reason, he just doesn’t feel like he can look at Bucky anymore.

“C’mon Sarge,” Bucky says, and the two of them follow close at Steve’s heels, Sarge panting softly as his little feet go pitter-patter on the hardwood floors.

“Looks like Pym put some real work into this place,” Bucky says. “It’s changed a lot since the last time I was in here.”

“Yeah, apparently he remodeled it before I got here,” Steve says.

“The noise was unbearable for a bit, but seems like it was worth it.” Steve glances back at Bucky, who shrugs. “Professor Pym isn’t known for being the nicest guy in the world. I don’t think he really considered the consequences for his neighbors when he’d start construction at five in the morning.”

Steve winces. “Rough,” he says. He’s had some crappy neighbors in his life, but doing laundry at three in the morning doesn’t exactly equate to long-term large-scale construction.

“Sarge was not a fan,” Bucky says. Hearing his name, Sarge whines just a little bit, a high-pitched and pathetic squeak to get his dad’s attention. Bucky makes a kissy noise at him, which makes Sarge wag his tail.

“I wouldn’t be, either,” Steve admits.

“Anyhow, I was happy when he moved out. Didn’t think I’d win the neighbor jackpot, though,” Bucky says. “That was lucky.”

Steve feels a blush creep over his cheeks as he turns the corner to the guest bedroom. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says as he opens the door. “It’s not much, but I did change the sheets for you.”

“My hero,” Bucky says with a smile as he enters the room. Steve follows after him, flipping on the light switch. Sarge — who took a second to sniff something — trots in after them. Steve feels grateful that he had time to sweep up before Sarge’s arrival; he’d hate to have something laying around that would make Sarge sick. Bucky hesitates before putting his things down on the bed. “I gotta ask,” he says. “Is Sarge allowed on the bed?”

“Sure,” Steve says. “I don’t see why not.” He should probably ask something about whether Sarge is potty trained or not, but Steve isn’t worried. For one, he’s not sure that Bucky would let Sarge sleep with him if he weren’t potty trained, and even if Sarge isn’t potty trained, he’s sure that Bucky would clean up any mishaps Sarge may have.

Bucky exhales, posture relaxing. Steve hadn’t known he was tense about that. “We sleep together,” he explains. “I don’t think either of us would do well if he had to be somewhere else all night.”

“What?” Steve asks, looking down at Sarge. “You didn’t want to sleep with _me_ tonight?” he asks. “And here I was, getting all excited at the prospect.”

Sarge snuffles at Steve’s leg, then runs to Bucky, hopping up on his hind legs and clawing at Bucky’s legs with his paws.

Steve laughs. “Guess that’s my answer,” he says.

“Aw, don’t be offended. Sarge just needs to get to know you a little better, then he’ll want in your bed. Bet most people who get to know you a little do,” Bucky says.

Steve feels himself flush. “Bucky!” he squeaks out as Bucky laughs.

“Sorry, sorry! Had to flirt with you just a little bit,” he says with a grin.

“That’s… it’s…” Steve stutters, not used to being flirted with at all, least of all by someone as attractive as Bucky. Someone as fun as Bucky, someone as interesting as Bucky, someone as kind as Bucky, someone as… Bucky as Bucky. He’s not used to _Bucky_ flirting with him and in the seconds that pass after the admission, Steve finds that he doesn’t particularly mind it.

He doesn’t mind Bucky flirting with him. Maybe he’d like Bucky to flirt with him some more.

Steve has been metaphorically closed for business since he came to Triskelion, shutting that part of himself off to focus on work. Of course, there’s no way that Bucky is serious — both he and Steve know that dating other professors is against the rules — but there’s something in Steve that switches on, a tickle in his stomach that he’s been willfully shutting off, or at least ignoring up until now.

The fact is, Bucky is a good guy. He’s been nothing but kind to Steve since he popped out of that tree on day one. Having him flirt with him is, well, it’s nice.

Bucky’s smile falls. “Is that bad?” he asks.

Steve shakes head, feeling his cheeks heat up. “No,” he says. “No, it’s not bad.”

“Okay,” Bucky says with a shy smile. “I just don’t want to cross any boundaries. If you don’t like somethin’ that I do, lemme know.”

“You haven’t,” Steve says.

There’s a long pause between them, Bucky looking at Steve like there’s something else he wants to say.

“So, want some dinner?” Steve asks.

Bucky exhales, looking relieved as he nods his head. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Dinner would be good.”

— —

They make a pillow fort, hanging out together and eating a frozen pizza as Turner Classic Movies plays softly in the background for most of the night. There’s a pile of grading Steve should do and a paper he should write, but he can’t find the energy to care about them when he’s in Bucky’s company. Sarge settles in on a pillow next to Steve — according to Bucky, he’s a radar for finding the softest space in any given room — and snoozes gently as Steve rubs the soft fur of his back.

As the hour turns late, Bucky presents Steve with hot chocolate he made on the stove topped with the marshmallow fluff he brought along with him.

“Ta-dah,” he says, handing Steve a mug. It’s one of Steve’s favorites, a mug from a hotel that he and Sam stayed at together when they visited Quebec together for a conference.

“Thanks,” he says, wrapping the mug in both hands, liking the way the warmth spreads through his fingers.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says, settling back in next to Steve. Their thighs touch, but Steve doesn’t mind it. It’s close quarters underneath the pillow fort, so it’s really unavoidable. Bucky lifts his mug to his lips and takes a quick sip. “Ah,” he says. “It’s really hot.”

“Sort of like you,” Steve says quickly, then hides his blush behind his own mug. It’s a stupid line and he knows it, but he glances over at Bucky to see if it worked.

Bucky stops sputtering about the hot chocolate and looks over at Steve. “You’re just yankin’ my chain,” he says, then starts to laugh.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “You caught me.” He laughs along with Bucky for a moment, then sighs.

He’s never been someone who has had a lot of luck expressing what he’s feeling when it comes to love.


	7. Ode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is distracted. Bucky is, too.
> 
> But are they getting distracted for the same reasons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The never-ending sunlight of Alaska has me all messed up but I think it's making me more productive. Haven't seen a moose up here yet, but this is the second chapter of this fic that I'm posting. Hopefully I can finish this thing before I get attacked by a bear and die.

It’s like once Steve’s heart starts beating, he can’t get it to stop.

He’d like to be able to look at Bucky without feeling like he’s about to jump off of a cliff, but that doesn’t seem to be happening. Just being in the same room as Bucky sets off some kind of reaction in Steve’s nervous system, making his heart beat fast, his hands clammy, and his forehead sweaty. It’s not a good look, and it’s definitely not a look that Steve wants Bucky to see.

Take for example, this evening.

Steve is sitting next to Sam in the Triskelion College Assembly Hall, the largest meeting place on campus. It’s one of the newer buildings on campus, with one of the largest gathering spaces and most comfortable seating. Professor Pepper Potts is about to start speaking — she’s one of Steve’s favorite scholars. He read all of her books in graduate school and has even communicated with her a few times; though, each time he felt outmatched. He’s been looking forward to her talk since it was announced, so he came to the Assembly Hall early, so he could save good seats for he and Sam.

President T’Challa takes the stage and Steve straightens up, unable to keep himself from being excited about this.

“Thank you everyone for coming to the Triskelion College Annual Lecture in the Future of the Humanities,” President T’Challa says as he addresses the rather large crowd. The Assembly Hall is full with students, faculty, staff, alumni, and various passersby who came to see this year’s speaker, Professor Pepper Pots from Wesleyan University. “In a time where connections between people seem to fray at the slightest stress, the humanities provide insight into the inner workings of how humans interact with one another and the world around them. Professor Potts’ work in—”

Sam nudges Steve’s side. “Barnes is standing in the aisle. Looks like he was late,” he says, then snorts.

Looking over, Steve sees Bucky standing on the stairs near the row where Steve and Sam are sitting. Once he sees him, Steve’s throat goes dry and his heart beats faster, and he hates himself a little for that. He’s a grown man and should hold himself together better despite having a small crush on a coworker.

Still, he can’t help but peek over. Bucky looks good, concentrating on President T’Challa’s speech and holding a legal pad, like he’s about to take notes. Steve has to exhale slowly as he looks at him just to get himself together. He really wishes Bucky would look over at him, which is silly and juvenile, but he wants to see Bucky’s big blue eyes.

Maybe Steve has a little more than a tiny crush.

“You should wave him over,” Sam suggests in a whisper during the lull between T’Challa’s speech and Professor Potts’ lecture. “You’ve been staring at him the whole time,” he adds, eyebrows raised, because Sam can see through Steve like nobody else can.

“Who?” Steve asks, playing dumb as he rips his eyes away from Bucky.

“You’re a damn bad liar, Steve Rogers,” Sam says.

Steve shrugs. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says, then Professor Potts starts talking again and Steve goes back to staring at Bucky.

— —

They meet up with Maria after the lecture and head to a cocktail hour sponsored by the Art History department. They’re a little late; Maria couldn’t go to the lecture because one of her advisees showed up to her office at the last minute, upset about something an older male professor told her and Maria needed to deal with that. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if that other professor ended up in tomorrow’s obituary, given Maria’s good mood when she greets them.

They head into the cocktail hour, laughing about something or another when Steve surveys the room. Valkyrie is already there, laughing about something with a beer in her hand and a small crowd gathered around her at the edge of the room. Steve sees Thor nearby, and Doctor Banner next to him, both engaged in conversation with someone that Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Oh, there’s Bucky,” Sam says, nudging Steve’s side. Was Steve really so opaque about his intentions? Or is Sam just a genius? It’s probably both, but that doesn’t make Steve feel any better. “You wanna go say hi? Let him know why you spent the whole lecture staring at him?”

“You spent the lecture staring at Bucky?” Maria asks. “Why was that?”

“Wasn’t ‘cuz he had mustard on his shirt,” Sam says.

Maria rolls her eyes. “You’ll never let him live that down, will you?” she asks.

Sam shakes his head. “It was honestly the best day of my life, watching that man go through an entire ceremony with a bit blotch of yellow mustard on his white shirt. He told me he can’t eat mustard to this day.”

“Better than our wedding day?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” Sam says. “Yes it was.”

Maria rolls her eyes as Sam and Steve chuckle. All of them know that Sam’s full of crap. The man did nothing but weep with joy throughout his wedding day. “Go get me a drink, boys,” she says. “I think I’ll need one.”

“I think I do, too,” Sam says, pausing to peck Maria on the lips before heading to the bar. Without something better to do — and knowing that Sam only has two hands — Steve follows close behind.

Sam orders a red wine for Maria, a beer for himself, and Steve asks for a glass of white wine, even if he’s not entirely feeling it. But when he reaches for his glass, someone else cuts in and grabs it instead.

“Hey—“ Steve starts, then turns to see Bucky standing next to him with Steve’s glass, smirking as he takes a sip. “Bucky?”

“It’s an emergency,” he says.

“What kind of emergency is solved with white wine?” Steve asks.

“Most,” Bucky says. “But in this case, it’s an old college alumnus who loves my books and, apparently, my ass.”

“What’s not to love there?” Steve asks with a smirk before asking the bartender for another glass of wine.

Sam nudges Steve’s side and whispers, “I gotta get this to Maria but that was some of the best flirting I have ever heard out of your mouth. _Get. It._ ”

Steve flushes, then accepts the glass of wine from the bartender. He frowns at Sam as he walks away.

“Is it okay for me to steal you?” Bucky asks, glancing over at Sam. “You don’t have someone cooler to hang out with?”

“I’ve never been particularly concerned with cool,” Steve says, stepping away from the bar and towards Bucky. “You look nice,” he says because it’s the truth. He’s looking particularly professor-ly in a tweed jacket with elbow patches and he’s wearing his thick-framed glasses. But he’s also just smiling as he steps in closer to Steve, and it makes Steve feel a little weak in the knees. He wonders what it would be like if Bucky were stepping in close to kiss him.

There is a very good chance that Steve’s crush on Bucky isn’t small at all. It’s probably not a big deal, but he’s finding that it’s shifting his center of gravity a little; he feels magnetized to Bucky, like he doesn’t want to be out of his orbit. This feeling isn’t something Steve is used to at all. Honestly, it makes Steve feel a little sick, but not in a bad way. The feeling is hard to describe; Steve isn’t sure he’s felt quite like this before, so attracted and so off-kilter.

It’s probably a big deal, actually. With the way he’s been thinking and feeling, it’s only a matter of time before Steve makes an utter fool of himself and does something that breaks school rules.

As if on cue, Steve sees President T’Challa walk across the room with Professor Potts following close behind. Guiltily, he takes a step away from Bucky, then takes a sip of wine. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong — this isn’t a Thought Crime kind of scenario — but he feels like even having the most mild of feelings for Bucky makes him guilty of breaking the rules in the employee handbook.

Even if Steve’s not one for rules, it’s not the time to be breaking them.

He glances at Bucky, who is looking at him with something akin to amusement.

When Steve looks at that smile, he feels less and less like following the rules. There are people worth breaking the rules for.

If, of course, that other person wants the rules to be broken. That’s not a given.

“So, did you like the lecture?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve lies. He’s sure the lecture was great; he just wasn’t paying attention. It’s a shame, but he knows it was recorded. He’ll watch in a day or so when he feels more normal. “You?”

“Yeah, it was great,” he says. “I was kind of distracted,” Bucky adds, a moment later.

“Yeah? Why’s that? Was it because you had to stand?”

“Well, I…” he starts, then pauses. He purses his lips, looking a little grumpy. “Hard to say why,” he says, finally. He glances back up at Steve. “Been distracted a lot, lately. How’d you know I was standin’?”

“Just noticed you standing there,” Steve lies again, then adds, “It’s that time of year. Everyone’s getting distracted. I am, too.” The days are getting shorter and colder, and the students are getting more stressed. It’s like the entire campus has a cold, everyone is so hurried and sad and tired. Maybe Steve’s distraction comes from a different place, but he can definitely sympathize with the late-autumn blues.

“It’s…” Bucky trails off, then pauses. “You put me at a loss for words sometimes,” he says.

“You’re a writer,” Steve says with a confused smile. “Aren’t words your thing?”

“Writin’ words is,” Bucky says. “Talkin’? That’s a bit tougher sometimes. It’s tougher around you, sometimes.”

Steve looks at Bucky, who isn’t smiling anymore. He’s looking at Steve with wide eyes a mouth pressed into a line. Steve doesn’t know what that means, or what Bucky is feeling. He wish he did.

“Is there something I’m doing wrong?” Steve asks in a quiet voice. The noise around them turns to static in his ears; he’s suddenly more nervous than he ever has been around Bucky.

He swallows hard, half wanting Bucky not to respond at all.

Bucky shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You do just about everythin’ right, Steve.”

Steve exhales, words stuck in his throat. The situation has been reversed, he guesses. Now Steve doesn’t know what to say as he looks at Bucky take a sip of wine. It’s been such a long time since he felt anything for anyone that he doesn’t know what that sort of thing means. Does Bucky like him the same way? Steve isn’t sure; Bucky is suave and cool. He’s an award-winning writer about to go off and make his own movie. There’s not a whole lot Steve can really offer someone with so much going on for them. Bucky’s on the top of the world. Steve’s not even tenured.

Frowning, Steve looks down at his feet.

“Hey,” Bucky says in a quiet voice. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says. “I’m just…” He pauses, shrugs.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “I should—”

“I need you to tell me if I do somethin’ wrong,” Bucky says. “I don’t know… I’m not good at this. Any of it,” he says. “So you have to tell me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Steve says, looking up to see Bucky’s eyes staring into him, wide and vulnerable. “But you’re fine. I promise that you’re fine. I’m just in my own head a bit tonight.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks.

Steve doesn’t say ‘you’. He’s pretty sure it’s not appropriate. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He wishes he could say it, just to see what the word would feel like coming out of his mouth.

“It was a good lecture,” Steve says, finally. “That’s it. It was a good lecture, Buck.”

Bucky chuckles, taking a step back from Steve. He hadn’t realized how close they were to one another until Bucky pulled back. “That it was,” he says. “But uh, I’m feelin’ a little claustrophobic in here.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

“You wanna go somewhere else? Get a drink or somethin’?” Bucky asks before polishing off his glass of wine. “It’s empty,” he says, by way of an explanation.

Steve is about to say yes, then remembers that he can’t. “I’m supposed to go to Sam and Maria’s after this,” Steve says with an apologetic smile.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, should’ve figured you had better plans.”

“They’re not better plans. They’re just plans. You could come with us,” Steve says, perking up a little. “We’ll stick around here for a while, then head out.”

“Nah, I’m just…” He pauses, looks away from Steve and sighs. “I don’t really feel like bein’ here right now. I’m… I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about rules, lately. And how I don’t like them. Guess I feel like rebellin’.” He looks back at Steve but he’s not smiling. “You ever feel like that?”

“Sure I do,” Steve says. “I’ve been feeling like that lately, too. But I’m not sure that leaving a cocktail hour early really counts as breaking the rules, Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Probably not, but I’ve only got so many options.” He sets his glass down on a nearby tray, then exhales. “See ya later, Steve,” he says before turning around and walking away.

“Uh, see you?” Steve asks to Bucky’s retreating back. He doesn’t look back at Steve. Not for the first time that night, Steve wishes Bucky would look back at him.

Maybe this crush isn’t worth it. Maybe Bucky will never look back at him, literally or metaphorically.

But every time Steve talks to Bucky, he feels his feelings growing. He doesn’t know how to stop it, and he doesn’t think he wants to.

— —

“You seem distracted,” Maria says. “You bored?” she asks, gesturing to the TV.

Steve shakes his head. They’re watching a new action movie that the two of them didn’t manage to catch in the theaters a few months ago while Sam is in the kitchen making them dessert. It’s something Steve really wanted to see, but much like the earlier lecture, he’s lost in thoughts of Bucky.

Maria reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. “What’s up?” she asks. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I’m…” He pauses. “How’d you know Sam was the one?” he asks.

Maria’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow,” she says. “Can’t say I expected to hear that from you.”

Steve groans and flops down on the couch so he’s laying down. “Stop,” he says.

“Is it Barnes?” Maria asks.

“I’m just… it’s different with him.” Steve manages to say. “I’m not sure why, but when I realized that there was something there, I also realized that it’s different than how it was with everyone else.”

“Are you two dating yet?” she asks.

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know where he’s at. Sometimes I think he’s interested, but then something like tonight happens and I’m not so sure. And it’s against the rules.”

Maria snorts. “You hate rules,” she says.

“But…”

“But if he’s the one, then they’re worth breaking,” Maria says. “And I knew it was Sam because I knew it was different. It was easy for me to be with him in a way that it isn’t easy to be with anyone else.”

“I have s’mores sundaes,” Sam announces as he walks inside. “If you hate them, blame Pinterest and not me.”

“See?” Maria says. “He’s just the best.”

Sam smiles, bringing one of the sundaes over to Maria. “You talking about me?” he asks.

“Only good things,” Maria says before they kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss a little more.

“Can I have my sundae?” Steve asks in a pathetic and whiney voice.

Sam separates himself from Maria to look over at him.

“No,” he says before kissing Maria again.

— —

To: sgrogers@triskelion.edu

From: jbbarnes@triskelion.edu

Subject: Tonight

 

hi steve,

sorry to be so weird tonight. just a lot on my mind lately. didn’t mean to drag you into it. looking forward to your lecture in my class next week.

sincerely,

bucky


	8. Romanticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Steve speaks to Bucky's class, they talk and Sarge snores.

“Here,” Bucky says, handing Steve a paper cup filled with coffee.

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it and holding it with both hands, trying to warm them. He didn’t think to put on gloves, but he also didn’t think he’d be sitting out in the cold after the lecture.

“No problem,” Bucky says, taking a seat next to Steve on the cold bench on the edge of campus. “Thanks again for doing the lecture. I know it must’ve been a pain, especially at the end of the semester.”

“No pain at all,” Steve says. “It was fun, especially since it seemed like your class actually did the reading. They had great questions, too. Really thoughtful.”

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah, they’re a great group.”

Unsure how to respond, Steve falls into quiet, taking a sip of his hot coffee. It’s from the bookstore, the only place open this late at night, and is pretty terrible. Just instant stuff they sell for a buck to students in a bind. He shouldn’t be drinking caffeine this late at night anyway, but he wanted the excuse to spend just a few more minutes with Bucky. They haven’t seen much of each other the past few weeks and Steve has missed him. Though, they just don’t seem to be connecting tonight.

“You been busy?” Steve asks finally, struggling to find something to say.

Bucky nods. “Yeah,” he says. “End of the semester. Stuff to grade, the usual.”

“Yeah, the usual,” Steve agrees, before they lapse into quiet again. Steve doesn’t know what he’s done to lost that camaraderie, the easy way that he and Bucky got along. It makes some part inside of him shiver.

Bucky glances at Steve, then back in front of him. “I have to give Natasha my answer, too,” he says. “About the movie. So that’s been on my mind.”

“What’re you thinking?” Steve asks.

“I’m thinkin’…” He pauses, smiling and shaking his head. “I still don’t fuckin’ know,” he says. “I’m not the most decisive person in the world,” he adds, looking over at Steve with a self-effacing shrug.

“Well, you should do it,” Steve says.

“That’s decisive,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m good at making decisions,” Steve says with a small smile. “And things here won’t change too much,” Steve continues. “T’Challa will still be president, Sam will still be a professor. I can keep an eye on your place, if you’d like me to, and you can always come back for graduation and watch your students walk. But you’re only gonna have so many chances to go make a movie and on your own terms. There doesn’t seem to be much of a downside.” Steve shrugs. “It’s what I would do if I were in your position. Not that I would be,” he adds quietly, smiling as he looks down at his cup of coffee. “But it sounds like a neat experience.”

“You’ll keep an eye on my house?” Bucky asks, leaning in slightly.

“Sure,” Steve says. “Make sure that no other pipes break and keep the ants from invading.”

“So you’re plannin’ on stickin’ around?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I’m here for the long haul. It’s not like Harvard is knocking.”

“If Harvard knocked, would you go?” Bucky ask, his smile fading just a little.

It takes Steve a moment to think, then he says, “No, I don’t think so. Not right now. I’m happy where I am.” He smiles up at Bucky as he sets his coffee down on the bench next to him. “It’s nice here. I wasn’t sure at first, but I see myself here for a long time.”

“You know, last time I did something like this it was a book tour. All over the fuckin’ world. Everyone told me that it’d be great, that I’d see all these places I’d never been to and meet all sorts of cool people. And I did do those things.” He swallows hard, looking out at the sleepy campus ahead of them. It seems like it’s gotten colder since they sat down, and there’s a dry chillness that makes Steve feel like it could start snowing any minute, even though it wasn’t in the forecast. “My relationship, the only real relationship I’d ever been in, crumbled halfway through. Got back to New York and it was like I had nothin’. Empty apartment, empty life. Seemed like I was just goin’ through the motions for a while.” He exhales. “Got a call from Triskelion askin’ if I wanted to come give a lecture. Almost said no — it felt like everythin’ was just too hard, y’know? I didn’t wanna get outta bed. But I ended up comin’. When I got back to campus, it felt like I could breathe for the first time in ages.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to leave,” Steve says, the realization dawning on him. “You’re afraid that’ll happen again?”

“Caught me,” Bucky says. “I don’t wanna get back to where I was. I like my life, Steve. It’s taken a lot of work, but I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“You won’t,” Steve says. “It’s been a while, right? And you’ve got a support system here. Just because you’re not here physically doesn’t mean that we won’t be with you.”

“You sound so sure,” Bucky says.

“Because I am.” Steve shrugs. “Things will work out.” He looks down. “Besides, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone right now, are you?” Bucky shakes his head. “See, that’s one concern that you don’t even need to think about until you meet some big shot Hollywood actor who sweeps you off your feet.” It’s hard to joke about it and he knows it sounds forced, but he also doesn’t want to give in to the melancholy growing inside of him at the thought of Bucky leaving for an entire year. Steve would never begrudge him the opportunity, but he’s gotten used to Bucky being his neighbor.

“I don’t think any actor is gonna sweep me off my feet,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I…” He pauses, just looks at Steve a little. Steve is glad it’s dark — it’s nearly 11 now — because Bucky probably can’t see the blush crawling up his cheeks. “Steve, can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure,” Steve says. “Go ahead.”

“Do I have any sort of a shot with you?” he asks.

“What?” Steve asks, brow furrowing.

“Romantically. Do I got any sort of shot with you romantically?” He winces. “That’s a bad way to phrase it.”

“It’s, um, I…”

“No pressure if the answer is no,” Bucky says. “Really, it’s… I’ll get over it. It’s just a crush, I promise. But if I just knew if there’s a chance, then I could…” He chuckles with discomfort. “Well, I’m not sure what I’d do after that, but something, probably.”

“Like kiss me?” Steve asks.

Bucky blinks a few times. “Sure,” he says. “If that’s what you wanted me to do,” he says.

So Steve doesn’t waste any time, just leans in and gives Bucky a kiss.Bucky is tense at first, and Steve can practically hear his mind running as he kisses him. But a moment later, he relaxes, moving closer to Steve and kissing him back. The kiss is a little timid, a little awkward. There are no fireworks between their chapped lips and their kiss doesn’t change the fact that they’re on an old, listing park bench on a chilly evening.

But as they pull away, they’re both smiling, red-cheeked and excited. “Wow,” Bucky says. “I’m happy,” he adds, then glances down, embarrassed. “That was stupid,” he says, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

“I’m happy, too,” Steve says. He reaches over and takes Bucky’s hand in his. “And for the record, I have a crush on you, too. You’ve got more than a shot. You’ve, well, you’ve got me. If you want me.”

“That’s real convenient,” Bucky says, still grinning in a way that makes something bubble in the pit of Steve’s stomach. “Do you wanna go back to my place? I gotta let Sarge out, but maybe after that we can chat for a bit?” He looks beautiful and hopeful and there’s nothing in the world Steve would rather do than go to his apartment and chat.

So he says that much. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he says, feeling honest in a way he hasn’t let himself be in a while.

Bucky smiles, leans in, and gently kisses Steve’s cheek. “Let’s go,” he says.

They walk back hand-in-hand.

— —

That night, Steve lays on his side, looking at Bucky beneath the white covers of his bed. Bucky’s room is open and comfortable with a big, soft bed full of pillows. Sarge snoozes gently between their legs, apparently non-perturbed by Steve’s presence in Bucky’s bed, so long as Steve gives him an adequate number of belly rubs before they settle down to sleep. Maybe sleeping over at Bucky’s the night of their first kiss is taking it a little too quickly, but after an hour of conversation and gentle making out, the walk home seemed dark and cold. It was natural that Steve would slip under the covers with Bucky, instead.

“Now’s about the time that I would have a smoke,” Bucky says with shut eyes and a smile on his face. His voice is a little gruff and Steve pulls in closer, wanting to hear every word he has to say, which is a little difficult over the sound of Sarge’s snoring.

“Need a distraction?” Steve asks.

Bucky opens his eyes, smiling at Steve with such warmth and tenderness that it makes something in Steve’s chest ache. He’s not sure he’s been on the receiving end of a look like that before. “Oh look, a distraction,” he says. “Think I’ll call him Steve.”

Chuckling softly, Steve leans in and gives him another kiss. “That good enough?”

“Hmm, not sure,” Bucky hums. “Think you need to try again.”

Steve is happy to oblige.

When Steve pulls away, Bucky looks up at him with wide eyes for a long moment, like he’s just drinking in Steve’s presence. Normally, Steve would feel twitchy under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t mind if it’s Bucky. Bucky can look his fill. “Can’t believe I get to have a shot with you,” he says after a pause.

Steve smiles. “I’m here,” he says.

“I didn’t really believe in…” he trails off.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Since I saw you the first time, I just sorta knew,” Bucky admits. “I know it’s probably a little much to tell you now, but…”

“It’s fine,” Steve says. “It took me a little longer, but I’m happy to be here.” He reaches down and strokes the edge of Bucky’s jaw. “I’m just as excited as you are, believe me.” And it’s true. Maybe Steve didn’t realize it back when Bucky jumped out of that tree, but he feels a pull towards Bucky that he hasn’t felt with anyone before. His heart feels warm and full. He’s not nervous; he’s content. It’s a feeling he wants to chase, but he doesn’t feel like he has to. It feels like, for the first time in so long, he has time.

“Now there’s no way I’m goin’ next year,” Bucky says with a breathy laugh. “I couldn’t possibly leave you behind.”

Steve removes his hand, his face going serious. “Bucky, you’re going to go.”

“What?” Bucky asks, brow furrowing.

Steve takes a breath. “You’re going to go because it’s an amazing opportunity, okay? And you’re going to go because I don’t give up easily. You can count on me. I won’t let the past repeat itself.” He pauses, then leans down for another quick kiss. When he comes back up he says, “I want to be your future.”

For a second, Bucky purses his lips, looking like he’s formulating some argument or another. But then his face slackens. “Okay,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “Okay, I trust you,” he says.

Steve smiles and outside, it begins to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn has finally bubbled over. Hope you enjoyed!!!


	9. Lyric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarge eats goose poop. Bucky and Steve visit President T'Challa's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Showing up a month-and-a-half later without Starbucks because I've given up caffeine. Won't go into excuses; I've just had a lot of Big Stuff happen in my personal life. Hope you enjoy the chapter anyway!

“Sarge, Sarge please don’t do that. Sarge, no, Sarge!” Steve says as Sarge starts eating some goose poop on their afternoon walk near the Triskelion Campus lake. He gently tries to pull him away from the poop, but Sarge is adamant. “C’mon,” Steve whines, because Bucky told him not to pull too hard on Sarge’s leash, but he also doesn’t want to step in poop to go get Sarge. It’s a pickle. A poop-filled pickle.

Sarge glances back at him. Then goes straight back down to the poop.

Grimacing, Steve tiptoes through the grass to where Sarge is chowing down. The goose poop must be delicious, because Sarge is eating with a single-minded intensity that Steve hasn’t seen from him in any previous activity. “You’re gross,” he tells Sarge before picking him up and taking him back to the pavement. Sarge wiggles and whines, but Steve is just as adamant that Sarge should stop eating poop. Bucky trusted him with his dog; he doesn’t want to return him covered in shit or filled with shit. He’s not sure that’d be a relationship dealbreaker, but it’s the little things that can build up over time.

Not that things have been building up in that negative direction, or anything. If anything, it’s the opposite. In the past five months, it’s been building up towards something great. It is something great. Steve’s cheeks go a little red just thinking about it.

“Steve!” he hears from further down the street and Steve looks up to see Sam and Thor, the latter waving at him enthusiastically.

Sarge tries to take advantage of his momentary distraction to wiggle his way out of Steve’s arms, so Steve lets him back down gently, making sure to tighten up his hold on his leash so they can get to a poop-free area. Sarge tries to pull himself back over there but Steve is a seasoned dog-handler now. He knows not to let Sarge take advantage of his goodwill now and get back to the poop.

Sarge finds a piece of poop on the sidewalk and starts eating it.

Steve groans just as Sam and Thor reach them.

“Now, now, who’s this?” Sam asks, leaning down to say hello to Sarge, even though both of them know who Sarge is and who he belongs to.

“Don’t let him lick your face,” Steve says, a moment too late. Sarge is already giving Sam a big smooch. Steve winces. “He’s been eating goose poop.”

Sam grimaces, pulling away from Sarge’s adoring kisses. “Thanks,” he says to Steve and not to Sarge, who is the one who was eating poop in the first place.

“I tried to warn you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Besides, you know who this is,” he says.

“That’s Sarge, Professor Barnes’ dog,” Thor says. A+ to Thor. “But the question remains on another level: why are _you_ the one walking him?”

“Bucky and I are neighbors,” Steve says, shrugging as Sarge moves on from Sam to jump up onto Thor’s legs. Thor bends down and gives him a good pat. “He was busy this afternoon and asked if I’d take Sarge out. I just finished grading some papers, so I thought it would be a nice time. And it was until Sarge started eating poop.”

It’s not the first time that Steve’s taken Sarge out for a walk, but it is the first time he’s gotten caught doing it. Not that he feels like it’s any sort of hint into their relationship; he’s always liked dogs and he’s always been a good guy. Of course Steve would be the sort of person who’d offer to take his neighbor’s dog for a walk when they’re having a busy day. It doesn’t mean that they’re sleeping together.

He hopes.

“Curious,” Thor says.

“Interesting,” Sam says with a raised eyebrow.

Of course Sam sees through him. Sam has probably known that Steve and Bucky are in a relationship since it started. He’s been dropping subtle hints the whole time, mentioning that he hasn’t been spending as much time at his and Maria’s house, telling Steve that he’s looking happy and well-laid. It’s really just a courtesy that he’s pretending not to know. Not telling Sam that he’s with Bucky has been one of the hardest things Steve’s ever done. But he needs to. At least, for now. Just a little longer. Sam will be the first person to know when the time is right. (If the time is ever right.)

“It’s not like it’s a burden. I like Sarge. Maybe a little less when he’s eating poop, but he’s a great dog.”

“That he is,” Thor says with a smile as gives Sarge another good pat on the back before straightening up again. Sarge, ever the attention hog, starts jumping up on Thor’s legs again. “Can we expect to see you at the pub tonight? A group of us will be celebrating the long weekend.”

Steve shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Then tomorrow?” Thor asks.

“No, I’m kind of busy tomorrow, too.”

“That far behind on grading, Rogers?” Sam asks, nudging Steve’s side.

“Something like that,” Steve says before saying his goodbyes and walking away.

— —

It takes him a good twenty minutes to get back to Bucky’s place after running into Sam and Thor with Sarge. But despite how tired he is, Sarge is still ecstatic when he sees Bucky, running up to where he sits at his desk and reaching up. Laughing, Bucky grabs Sarge and lifts him up to his lap, where he gets thirty seconds of face licking — something Steve still doesn’t understand how he can stand. It’s three licks and Steve’s out, at least when it comes to close proximity to his mouth.

“Hi,” Bucky says finally, once Sarge has gotten his fill and settled down.

“I’d kiss you, but…” Steve says with a shrug.

“You’re just weak,” Bucky says, then looks down to Sarge, adding in a baby voice, “You hear that? Steve thinks you’re gross.”

“I think his mouth is gross. I don’t think all of Sarge is gross,” Steve says. “Besides, he was out there eating goose poop. I think that even you don’t want that near all of those holes in your body.” He winces a little at the awkward phrasing.

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Goose poop?” he asks Sarge. “Really? I thought we talked about this, bud.”

Sarge wags his tail and yips.

Bucky grins, ruffling Sarge’s fur near his ears. “You’re gross,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of Sarge’s head before turning back to Steve. “You let him eat goose poop?” he asks.

“I tried to keep him away,” he says with a shrug. “Must taste good.”

“Oh yeah, no delicacy like goose shit,” Bucky says, laughing. “C’mere and give it a try,” he says, puckering his lips.

Laughing, Steve walks over and presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple. “Maybe wash your face first,” he says.

“Buddy, you’ve got a rude awakening waiting for you if you think that I’m gonna wash your face prior to any time I’m about to kiss you,” he says.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks.

“Reduces kissin’ time, for starters,” Bucky says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Speaking of time,” he starts, “you think it’s about time we take Sarge to the sitter’s?” he asks.

“Yeah, just about,” Bucky says. “Too bad fancy restaurants don’t let little puppies eat there,” he tells Sarge seriously.

“Next time we’ll find a place that serves dogs,” Steve says.

Bucky looks up at him and smiles. “I know you don’t mean that but I appreciate the lie,” he says.

“You’re the one that chose the restaurant,” Steve says. “Which you still haven’t told me about, by the way,” he adds.

“I know,” Bucky says with a cheeky smile. “You got your overnight bag ready?”

“I do,” Steve says.

“Then let’s go,” Bucky says, gently helping Sarge down to the floor before standing up, getting into Steve’s space, and giving him a lingering kiss. “The goose shit’s just an appetizer,” he adds as he pulls away, which makes Steve roll his eyes but smile.

Steve just loves Bucky’s sense of humor.

— —

Three hours later, they’re sitting down to dinner at a nice seafood restaurant that Steve heard about but didn’t expect to go to in a long time. Namely, until he got a significant raise. The place is done up in blues and silvers with large windows. The silverware all feels heavy and expensive and the prices match.

“This is swanky,” he says as Bucky pulls his chair out for him. Steve feels his cheeks go a little pink as Bucky pushes the chair in beneath him. “Thanks,” he says.

Bucky shrugs. “Gotta put those royalty checks to good use. Can’t think of a better use than getting you some risotto. Or whatever you want,” he adds quickly. “I just remembered you sayin’ you like risotto and I think they’ve got it here.”

“And I remember you making that terrible risotto last month with the mushrooms.”

Bucky looks down, but he’s smiling. “I tried, and that’s what’s important,” he mutters as he puts a blue cloth napkin on his lap.

“That’s true,” Steve says, and since they’re almost two hours away from campus and he’s feeling a lot in love, he reaches over the table and takes Bucky’s hand in his.

Knowing how edgy Steve’s been about public displays of affection, the casual touch makes Bucky look up, then down to their hands, pointedly, then up at Steve again. Steve shrugs. “I think we’re safe here,” he says, pulling Bucky’s hand to his lips and kissing him on the knuckles.

“You’re a charmer,” Bucky says, grinning, red spreading across his cheeks. It’s kind of nice to be able to make Bucky feel a little shy and a little charmed, even five months into their relationship.

“I feel like I owe you. You’ve been great about keeping things so quiet for so long. I know that’s been tough.” It’s been tough on both of them, but Bucky has a lot less to loose than Steve does, in this scenario.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bucky says. “Not that I don’t wanna shout it from the rooftops, but I understand.” He rubs his thumb across Steve’s knuckles as his smile turns thoughtful, maybe a little sad.

“I know you understand,” Steve says. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want this, too.” He squeezes Bucky’s hand. “Being with you makes me so happy,” Steve says, causing Bucky to duck his head again. He’s found that he needs to be clear with Bucky, to tell him without mincing words when something’s great or something’s not. It’s a dynamic that works just fine for Steve, who finds it easier to be clear than to beat around the bush. And he likes the way that something like this, just a small comment, can make Bucky’s feelings be read across his features.

“I was gonna wait to dessert to tell you this,” Bucky says, looking up at Steve. “But I love you, Steve. I’m in love with you. I’ve known it for a long time but… that’s it, out loud.” He shrugs. “That’s why all this is worth it. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Steve says, leaning in to peck Bucky on the lips — their first kiss in public — before looking back down at his menu. “I’m gonna get a lobster,” he says, knowing his cheeks are burning red and his heart is hammering hard and Bucky is _in love with him_.

Bucky grins. “Yeah, yeah, butter me up then tell me you’re gonna get the most expensive thing on the menu. I know how this works.”

Steve puts on a fake pout. “You don’t think I’m worth the most expensive thing on the menu?” Steve asks.

“Buddy, I’ll buy you as many lobsters as you want. You’re worth all of the lobsters in the sea to me.”

“That’s real sweet,” Steve says.

“The sea’s pretty salty,” Bucky says with a shrug.

Steve laughs and squeezes Bucky’s hand again. He plays footsie with Bucky underneath the table and orders a seafood risotto, which is divine. And he’s in love with Bucky and Bucky’s in love with him.

— —

“Thanks,” Steve says after he takes the final bite of his creme brûlée. “This whole meal was amazing.”

“Yeah, if you wanna see amazing, wait until tonight,” Bucky says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks.

“Well, I did tell you to pack an overnight bag.” Steve’s brow furrows. “I got us a hotel room.”

“A hotel room?”

Bucky nods. “Someplace Trip Advisor says is really nice, too. Nothin’ but the best for you.”

“Buck, you shouldn’t have,” Steve says, grinning with excitement. A night alone with Bucky without having to worry about an alarm in the morning (or Sarge waking them up) or anyone seeing them sounds too good to be true. “But I’m glad you did,” he adds.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky says, reaching for Steve’s hand again. “I hope that this is the first of uh, many trips. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve says, reaching in for a lingering kiss.

He’s interrupted by someone next to them, clearing their throat. When he looks up, his stomach drops. “President T’Challa,” he says, dropping Bucky’s hand and sitting ramrod straight.

President T’Challa nods. “I thought it would be inappropriate to leave the restaurant without saying hello,” he says. “Nakia is bringing the car around, or she’d say hello as well.”

Steve swallows hard. “It’s… We’re…”

“In a relationship,” Bucky says. He looks to Steve and shrugs. “It’s not worth lyin’ about when you’ve been caught red-handed.”

Steve stares at Bucky. “We are,” he finds himself saying. “What happens now?” he asks, wondering if he can be fired here, immediately. God, it’d really ruin the night if he got fired right now.

“We will find a resolution,” President T’Challa says. “Why don’t the both of you come to my office first thing on Tuesday. I’m sure that we can find a way to handle this.”

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Alright,” President T’Challa says. “I should be going, but I will see the both of you very soon.”

“Yeah, have a nice night,” Bucky says. “Tell Nakia I say hi.”

“You as well,” he replies before turning around and leaving the restaurant.

Steve tries to breathe.

“Steve, buddy, you with me?” Bucky asks.

“We got _caught_ ,” Steve says.

“Yeah, I know. Let’s… Let’s just get outta here,” he says. “You wanna get outta here?” he asks.

“Please,” Steve says, standing up, then holding his hand out to Bucky.

Bucky stares at his hand like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“We got caught,” Steve says with a sad smile. “It can’t hurt us now.”

Bucky reaches for his hand, takes it, and gives it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay,” he says.

Steve tries to believe him.

— —

Later that night they’re in their hotel bed, limbs entangled, Bucky gently stroking Steve’s hair, Bucky whispers, “I’ll quit.”

“What?” Steve asks, half-dozing. He’s still stressed, but oddly relieved. Five months of sneaking around and hiding his relationship has put him on edge. Now, he can’t lose anything more. Besides Bucky. God, he doesn’t want to lose Bucky. “Quit what?”

“Teachin’,” Bucky says.

“No,” Steve says, eyes opening wide. “You love teaching.”

“I love you,” Bucky responds, voice cracking a little. “And don’t get me wrong, I love teachin’. But I can teach somewhere else, my name’s got enough cache that I could do that, even if I don’t end up with any references from this place. So if President T’Challa says that we can’t be together, or if he wants to fire you, I’ll just quit. We’ll just date and there’s no rules against a professor datin’ a former professor.”

“I don’t want that,” Steve says quietly. “I’d never be able to let you do that. I’d rather quit than you, Bucky.”

“You have a lot more to lose here than I do, buddy,” Bucky says. “You struggled for a long time to get where you are. I have enough money that I don’t even need to teach. I could sit around all day eatin’ bon bons and I’d be just fine.”

“We both have things we could lose,” Steve says, voice low. “You and I both know that you don’t want to sit around eating bon bons. You love the classroom. You can’t lose your job.”

“The one thing that I can’t lose is you,” Bucky says. It’s dark, but Steve can see the blue of Bucky’s eyes, the way his chest hitches as he says it. “Steve, I can live without the job. I can live without the school. I’m not so sure I can live without you, now that I know you. Now that I love you.”

“You could live without me,” Steve says automatically because he doesn’t want Bucky to think he can’t. He doesn’t expect to break up with Bucky any time soon, but it’s important to him that Bucky knows that he could survive it.

“Probably,” Bucky says with a little smile. “But it doesn’t mean that I want to.”

“I want to stay together,” Steve whispers because in his heart of hearts, he knows it’s true. He’s wanted the life of an academic for so long; he’s fought for a tenure track position with an intensity that was all-consuming. But his months with Bucky have made him something he hasn’t been in a long time: happy. Now that he knows that he can have a life that’s fulfilling in work but more importantly, fulfilling in love, he’s not sure he could trade it back.

“Then we’ll stay together,” Bucky says. “I’ll make it happen.”

“But I don’t want you to quit, either,” Steve says.

“Steve, there may not be much of a choice.”

“Then we’ll find another option,” Steve says.

“Okay,” Bucky says before coming in close. “Can I kiss you now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Kiss me. Please.”

— —

They spend a little time exploring the city the next day, but their hearts aren’t in it. Bucky is especially miffed, because he’d planned things out so well just to have heartbreaking news ruin his special weekend. So they head back earlier than expected, getting back in town in just enough time for Steve to call Sam and go to his place for dinner.

“Been a while,” Sam says, weighted, as he dishes out some Chinese takeout onto Steve’s plate.

“Sam, Steve was here last week,” Maria says, rolling her eyes. “It’s like he’s one of those weird Youtube conspiracy theorists when it comes to you,” she explains to Steve. “Any slight variation in your normal schedule and he’s sure he’s come up with some nutty reason. It’s been that way for years, but now he won’t shut up about it.”

“Well, that’s actually something I wanted to tell you two about,” Steve says. Maria raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“ _HA_ ,” Sam says loudly, pointing the serving spoon he’s been using to ladle sesame chicken with at Maria. “I knew it!”

She rolls her eyes. “Wow, I’m so impressed,” she says, completely toneless and deadpan.

Sam, in response, does a kind of dance, wiggling his hips with joy. “I was right! I was right!” he chants before pausing and looking at Steve. “I’m real happy for you and glad you found someone but I do have to let everyone in this room know, one more time, that I was right.”

“Yes Sam, we know,” Maria says, struggling to keep herself from smiling. She turns to Steve. “So who’s the lucky person?” she asks.

“Bucky Barnes,” Steve says.

Sam’s smile fades. “Ugh,” he says, dramatically falling into his chair. “Of all the people in the world, you had to choose the most annoying one.” He pauses. “I mean, I obviously knew that it was him, but he’s the worst, Steve. You’re the worst, too, but in better ways, if you know what I mean.”

“I love him,” Steve says simply. Both Sam and Maria’s eyes dart straight to him. He shrugs. “I do.”

“How long have you two been together?” Sam asks, straightening up, realizing just how serious Steve is about this. The last time Steve told Sam that he was in love was when he was dating Peggy. It’s been a while. And Steve doesn’t say those words unless he’s serious.

“Since I gave that talk to his class last semester.”

“So, a while,” Sam says.

Steve nods. “Yeah, a while.”

“Long enough that you’re serious enough to start telling people?” Sam asks. “You know the rules about dating here.”

He swallows. “Sort of,” he says before telling Sam and Maria what happened the night before.

“I know it seems bad, but it was bound to come out at some point,” Maria says. “I’m sure that President T’Challa will be understanding. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m not so sure that he’ll be understanding,” Steve says. He shakes his head. “I guess I know what it feels like when a professor keeps you after class. I don’t think my heart has stopped racing since I saw him.”

“You never had that happen?” Sam asks, incredulous. “Steve, you’ve always been mouthy as hell. I refuse to believe that you were never kept after class.”

“Of course I had that happen. I just didn’t care. I didn’t think I was in the wrong before.”

“And now you do,” Maria says.

Steve nods. “And now I do.” He pauses. “But I also don’t. I know that I broke the rule, but I think the rule is wrong. But I also care about what the consequences could be. I think that’s the difference. I never cared about the consequences before.”

“So what’re you gonna do?” Sam asks.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“You didn’t just come here to tell us about you and Bucky, as much as you wanted to,” Sam says. “You have something else that you want.”

“Well, I had a thought,” Steve starts.

“Here we go,” Sam mutters, but he’s listening. He always does.

— —

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, gesturing to the stack of papers in Steve’s hands. Steve woke up late, having turned off his alarm for the long weekend, so he’s almost late to their meeting with President T’Challa. But he’s there on time, papers in hand, with about thirty seconds to spare before he and Bucky are supposed to knock on the door. They couldn’t meet up beforehand (Bucky had a meeting with a student) so this is the first time Steve’s seen him since he dropped him off from their weekend together. He look tired; Steve aches to reach out and just touch, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“Hopefully something that’ll help us keep our jobs,” Steve responds with a small smile before the door opens.

“Hello Professor Rogers, Professor Barnes,” President T’Challa says. “Why don’t you come in?”

Steve nods and Bucky sighs. They both follow President T’Challa inside.

President T’Challa’s office is large — as it should be; he’s the president of the college — and has framed photographs of him with Nakia, his wife, his sister Shuri, and his best friend, Okoye hanging on the walls. There are bookshelves all around, filled with books, some with familiar titles and others unfamiliar to Steve. Normally, Steve would spend a bit more time looking around with a keen eye, but his heart is pounding fast and he’s only focused on getting to one of the seats in front of President T’Challa’s desk without making a fool of himself.

“Well,” President T’Challa starts, “I hope you know why you’re here today.”

“Outdated rules,” Bucky says.

“Yes, Professor Barnes. Triskelion College’s fraternization rule. Instated in 1948, when Triskelion hired its first female professor. The hope was that the rule would keep her from any unwanted advances by male colleagues,” President T’Challa says. “But 1948 was a long time ago.”

“Before we get any further,” Steve says, passing T’Challa the stack of papers. “These are letters.”

“Letters, Professor Rogers?” he asks, taking the papers from Steve.

Steve nods. “They’re from other staff members.”

“Rather than sitting here and reading through them, may I ask about their contents?” President T’Challa asks.

“Most of them are from married staff members, just saying that being in love with someone who works here isn’t something that distracts them from their job. There are letters from single faculty and staff members, too, and people who are just married, not necessarily to someone from the school.” He pauses. “They’re just to show that there’s a lot of staff members here who feel that the fraternization rule is outdated and unnecessary. There are a lot of other rules on the books that can help prevent unwanted advances. Keeping consensual couples from being together doesn’t help morale, especially at a small, isolated school.”

“Had you put this together before the other night?” President T’Challa asks, flipping through the pages. Steve collected over thirty letters and there are still a few people working on theirs who will send them to Steve soon enough.

“No,” Steve says. “I did most of this yesterday.”

President T’Challa nods. “Nice work,” he says. “This will come in handy.”

“Handy for what?” Bucky asks. He’s slouched, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he’s ready to sink into himself and it breaks Steve’s heart. Not caring what President T’Challa thinks, he reaches over and puts a hand on Bucky’s arm. Bucky looks over, then with a half-smile, disentangles his arms and takes Steve’s hand in his.

“Handy for some changes I’m trying to make. There are many outdated rules in Triskelion’s policies, things that harken back to a different era when things were much different on college campuses. One of my goals as president of this institution is to take these unfair rules off the books, so that they cannot be used against faculty, staff, and students who may break them, like yourselves. I cannot imagine that having such outdated policies makes it difficult to attract and retain talent on our campus.”

Bucky sits up. “So we’re not fired?” he asks.

“Professor Barnes, I hardly think this is a fireable offense. Maybe it’s because I met my wife while teaching at Oberlin, but I don’t think that dating someone you work with should be a reason for your termination, so long as the relationship is consensual and you handle yourselves professionally. I assume that your relationship follows those terms?” Both Steve and Bucky nod. “Then I see no reason to pry into your personal life for the sake of some rule written before man walked on the moon.”

“So that’s… that’s it?” Bucky asks.

“If you’d like it to be, yes. But I’d like to ask you to speak to the board at our next meeting about the unfairness of this rule. These,” he adds, holding up the papers Steve gave him, “will be useful, as well. If you could get permission from those who wrote these to share them with the board, I would appreciate that. Saves me a layer of work.”

“I can do that,” Steve says.

“Professor Barnes, you and I both know that your work here is a draw to the college. Your students love you and your professional experience makes you a valued member of this faculty. I think that your testimony, in particular, will be most persuasive to the board.”

“I can do that,” Bucky says, deflating a little, looking down.

“Are you okay?” President T’Challa asks.

“Honestly, I got a resignation letter in my pocket. I thought I’d have to quit.”

“I should hope you won’t have to quit this institution for quite some time,” President T’Challa says. “Same to you, Professor Rogers. I think you are both exemplary employees, the kind of people we want to bring Triskelion into the future with us. If this rule stands as a barrier to your continued happiness at this institution, I’ll do my best to change it.”

“Wow,” Steve says. “I thought this was going to be a lot harder than it was.”

President T’Challa smiles. “I’ve been told I’m a reasonable leader. Now go teach your classes, enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll be in touch with you soon about what our next step will be. It is my hope that by the time you’re done with your movie, Professor Barnes, the rule will be off the books and you’ll be free to hold hands in this town. A weekend away is fine, but I’m sure that you don’t want to drive an hour just to go on a date.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, a little wide eyed.

“You’re welcome,” President T’Challa says as the two of them leave.

Steve can’t help it — as soon as they’re outside of President T’Challa’s office and the door is closed, he leans down and kisses Bucky on the lips. “This worked out a lot better than I thought it would,” he admits as they pull away.

“I didn’t realize you did anythin’ to… protect us,” he says. “Thank you,” he says, a little softer.

Steve shrugs. “I want to fight for the things I care about. I care about you. And I want us to be together.”

Bucky smiles up at him. “I want us to be together, too.”

It’s been a wild year at Triskelion, one where Steve learned a lot about teaching, about working, and about loving. And while the first two are important, and parts of his life that he’d always dreamed of having, but that last part… it was unexpected and unexpectedly the most important part of his time here.

He can’t wait to keep learning, Bucky by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be an epilogue! Thanks for reading!!


	10. Free Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Hollywood premiere and a dedication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all, folks! Many thanks again to iamadelicateflowergodammit for your generosity. I hope you (and everyone else) enjoy this final installment of these two very silly professors.

“Wow,” Steve says, looking out at the long line of limos in front of them. “Hollywood. So glamorous. Long lines, just like Disney World.”

“I think we have to pay for our own popcorn at the premiere,” Bucky says with a shrug. “There’s nothin’ glamorous about any of this. You know that my trailer wasn’t air conditioned? I was wrecked,” Bucky says.

“You mentioned that one or a hundred times. Besides, I think you look pretty glamorous in that tuxedo,” Steve says with a little smile. He feels pretty uncomfortable in his own tuxedo, a rented one from a place near the hotel Bucky’s been staying in L.A., but Bucky’s fits him like a glove. But Bucky actually owns the tuxedo and has had it tailored. He’s had to wear it before, to various events and parties for famous authors where they serve champagne and wear tuxedos, so it makes sense for him to own his suit, whereas Steve has almost absolutely no reason to own a tux. However, as good as Bucky looks in the tux, Steve is very much looking forward to taking Bucky’s tuxedo off of him after the premiere, as well.

They’ve been apart for most of the summer, which makes being together all the sweeter. After filming wrapped, Bucky came back to school, but with the movie premiering, he’s been out of time doing publicity and press for the picture. It’s apparently very good; true to Bucky’s vision and headed to the award season circuit. Bucky has a shot at an Oscar, which is a pretty wild thing to think, especially given that Bucky tripped over nothing in their hotel room this morning. As glitzy and glamorous as all this may be, he’s still _Bucky_ , and it makes Steve so happy to know that things haven’t changed all that much while he’s been away.

Meanwhile, Steve is shopping around his manuscript for his first book. Sure, it’s an academic art historical text that probably ten people will read and two people will care about, but it’s a bit of an accomplishment, too.

“You look amazing,” Bucky says, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand in his. “I know all of this is a bit wild, but I’m really glad you’re here. Doin’ all this shit without you has been such a dumpster fire, I swear.”

“Yeah, a dumpster fire that’s going to win a Critic’s Choice Award,” Steve says, fondly rolling his eyes. He rubs his thumb against the soft spot on Bucky’s palm. “Anyhow, I needed an excuse to go on vacation. Otherwise I would’ve just stayed on campus until I withered away.”

“Some vacation,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “At least at Disney World there’d be a ride at the end of the line.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve never been to Los Angeles before. And most people would think getting to take a limo ride with your boyfriend and a bottle of champagne is very glamorous, even if you do have to buy your own popcorn. Which I think you have to do at Disney World, too.” Steve grins. “I don’t need glamor,” he says.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks.

“You,” Steve says, maybe a little too honestly. They’ve been going strong, especially since the board voted to remove the faculty and staff dating restrictions, but he can’t say that he hasn’t missed Bucky during his time away. Sleeping in their room — it still gives him a kick to call their shared spaces _theirs_ , even if Bucky bought the house before he even met Steve — with only Sarge to keep him company has been a bit of a let down. Sarge doesn’t snore the way that Bucky does and his kisses are a lot grosser.

“I’m here,” Bucky says. “And I promise I’ll stick by you the whole night. They’ll have to pry me away from your side with a crowbar.”

“You may need to get interviewed,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows.

“They can ask you questions, too. You know just as much about the script as I do, at this point. And you’re about a hundred fifty times more charming than I am.”

“If you need to use the bathroom?” he asks, ignoring the charming comment. Both of them know that Bucky’s the charming one in this relationship.

“Rogers, I’ve been shitting with the door open for six months, now. You’re not intimidated by my bowel movements and I’m not worried that they’ll offend your delicate sensibilities. We have no secrets from each other now.”

Steve chuckles, inches closer to Bucky. “I’m really proud of you,” he says.

“Thanks,” Bucky says. “I really…” His voice cracks, just a little. He clears it, then continues. “I really couldn’t’ve done this without you, bud. I’m not just sayin’ that. You…” He pauses, searching for the right words. Steve lets him. “You make me braver. And more excited. I’m glad we can do this together.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Steve says.

“Oh and there’s… I have somethin’ to show you,” Bucky says, reaching down for his bag. He pulls out a book from his bag and hands it to Steve. “It’s an advance copy of my next book,” he says. “The one I was workin’ on this spring.”

The cover is simple, white, with its title, _The Entirely Beautiful_ , and Bucky’s name in thick black letters.

“Open it,” Bucky orders, quietly, and Steve does so. He flips through the title page, the copyright page, and his eyes catch on the dedication.

> _For Steve._
> 
> _You taught me the truth about love._
> 
> _Will you marry me?_

Steve looks up and sees Bucky holding a gold band out to him.

“Yes,” Steve says simply, blinking with surprise.

Bucky exhales, smiles, eyes filling with tears. He nods, grinning. “Okay,” he says, taking Steve’s left hand in his and slipping the ring onto his finger. “That’s nice,” he says, looking up at Steve.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve says, dropping the book and lunging forward, pulling Bucky into a searing kiss, feeling the weight of the ring on his finger as he puts his hand to Bucky’s face.

Moments later, the door to their limousine opens. Steve sees flashing lights and hears shouting fans, but all he feels is Bucky’s lips on his, his hand on his hip, the happy tears falling down his cheeks.

“Mr. Barnes,” Steve hears someone from outside of the limo say in an authoritative voice. “You need to come out right now or else the flow of traffic will be disturbed.”

“Bad timing,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky huffs out a laugh, then pulls back in to give Steve a final peck on the lips. “Perfect timing,” he says. “All of it. Everything that led us together.”

“That’s poetic,” Steve says.

“Time will say nothing, but I told you so,” Bucky mutters, then takes Steve’s hand. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Sure,” Steve says, following Bucky as they step out of the limousine and forward into the next stage of their lives.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging [this post](http://whtaft.tumblr.com/post/170667386869/some-say-it-makes-the-world-go-round-by-mambo) on Tumblr or giving me a follow at [whtaft](www.whtaft.tumblr.com%22).


End file.
